American life, love, values, politics, celebrity buzz, meandering thoughts and feelings of everyday existence in a psuedo cultural, political and social global society.

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Wednesday, June 24, 2009
"COLUMBIA, S.C. - South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford was in Argentina during a days long unexplained absence, not hiking the Appalachian Trail as his staff told the public when state leaders raised questions about his whereabouts, the governor told a newspaper.

The State reported that Sanford arrived Wednesday morning at Atlanta's international airport on a flight from Buenos Aires." I only wish that I could've figured out my many passwords so, that I could have told you-a little story-small, but true!
If it's Father's Day and your husband tells you he's going golfing with the guys...because it's "HIS" day, well, you can be dumb, or naive, but it does mean (and in this restless hiking and cruising scenario,) that your husband is having an affair with a woman who has children and that the kids are with HER husband (Father's Day), so she can get away for a romantic weekend. And, so, sad, but true-another Republican or Euro Slime or HOT SHOT or Politico has overstepped decorum, cheated on his wife and kids, and feels that it's fine, cause he's in love/lust and needs a "zone of privacy." It may be scary-but confront the bastard. Better to know sooner than later and by the way, never trust the mistress/love of his lif because she has just stepped on your heart-along with her love, your husband> His steps hiot hard and the DOLL supports HIM! Try to think clearly, START your life over. The "OTHER WOMAN" does not care. She will be a shrew, a "trophy" wife, a phony and gold digger-and then, sometime in the future-when the "kids" get older and you have to celebrate all the happy occasions, practice your air kisses, cause they will come! Then turn your back, remember your contact cerebral word and walk away! They are hollow trees and as hard as you knock-no one is there-just evil.

Sunday, November 02, 2008
VOTE OBAMA! There are some things that we were supposed to learn in Kindergarten. One important thing-that I have noticed recently-is the idea that you are not supposed to talk to strangers. No matter who you are-you must be aware about WHO YOU ARE TALKING TO! Time for Sarah Palin to go home and teach herself and family some very basic rules and values! Trust her? Sarah Palin Talks to Strangers! Next time-she opens the door to a stranger? Next time-what does she do? Sarah Palin doesn't love life-she plays at life. Shooting animals from airplanes, Pro-Win Which War? Pro-Life is Pro-Choice! Men, women and children being killed? All life is valuable-and I , do not trust my life in your hands or John McCain's hands! You were once very Mavericky! Now, you are redundant, erratic and icky-and what is this with Joe the Plumber-Can you imagine Cindy allowing him in the front door? Does he speak to him? Is she every in his airspace? John, go back to the ranch, the Senate, the river or the mountain-just go away! VOTE OBAMA!

Saturday, October 04, 2008
John McCain still won't come clean with one of HIS BIG SECRETS!!!
The Keating Five
"The Keating Five were five United States Senators accused of corruption in 1989, igniting a major political scandal as part of the larger Savings and Loan crisis of the late 1980s and early 1990s. The five senators, Alan Cranston (D-CA), Dennis DeConcini (D-AZ), John Glenn (D-OH), John McCain (R-AZ), and Donald W. Riegle (D-MI), were accused of improperly intervening in 1987 on behalf of Charles H. Keating, Jr., chairman of the Lincoln Savings and Loan Association, which was the target of a regulatory investigation by the Federal Home Loan Bank Board (FHLBB). The FHLBB subsequently backed off taking action against Lincoln.

Lincoln Savings and Loan collapsed in 1989, at a cost of $2 billion to the federal government. Some 23,000 Lincoln bondholders were defrauded and many elderly investors lost their life savings. The substantial political contributions that Keating had made to each of the senators, totalling $1.3 million, attracted considerable public and media attention. After a lengthy investigation, the Senate Ethics Committee determined in 1991 that Alan Cranston, Dennis DeConcini, and Donald Riegle had substantially and improperly interfered with the FHLBB in its investigation of Lincoln Savings, with Cranston receiving a formal reprimand. Senators John Glenn and John McCain were cleared of having acted improperly but were criticized for having exercised "poor judgment". Online-get more info!

All five of the senators involved served out their terms. Only Glenn and McCain ran for re-election, and they both succeeded. McCain would go on to become the Republican nominee for president in 2008.
Receiving gifts, using corporate jets, taking funds from corrupt pals in Finance-and exercising one of his infamous moments of POOR JUDGEMENT!!! Plus, didn't Cindy McCain buy stock in Savings and Loan??? John McCain is OLD Washington, DC and a crafty Arizona Senator. John McCain used his position within his wife's company to further his career in politics, by meeting and greeting all the people he would talk with about his wife's great BEER Company. John McCain is not truthful.
Now, I also would love to know HOW Sarah Palin gets her NEWS?? If she can go out and talk about something that happened in the 1960s (and I don't even think she was born ...yet...) then how does she know so much about who was a radical and who supported or did not support the Vietnam War? And, if she really doesn't KNOW Joe Biden and if she doesn't know Barack Obama (I am sure she DOESN'T PAL AROUND WITH HIM)....then how does she know who are his friends. Forty years ago Ayers was a rebel for the Weather Underground, now a Professor and Civic Leader. He was on a committee with him, his kids go to school with his kids. Does Palin or McPain talk about Sara's DH and how he is sooooo........involved in Alaskan Politics and how he was a member, and may still be a member of a group that wanted Alaska to secede from the Nation??? Why don't we let Sara talk about that and TROOPERGATE??
I know we all have been on committee's with people and they were not our buddies and that I have had kids go to school with my kids and I hardly knew the parents. When was the last time that your child was not placed in the IN group with your supposed acquaintances and you found a BETTER group for him or her? Does happen? My new friends may not be my OLD acquaintances and my new friends are my new acquaintances?? Lots of things happen that are tangled my strangers/acquaintances, trusted and untrusted friends.
Keep your Friends close and your enemies closer..and believe in yourself!
Now, take a good look at people who are telling Tales, with a wink and a nod and repetition, cause someone had to COACH Sarah Palin of Wasilly-how else could she ever know about anything?? She couldn't name ONE newspaper that she read, ONE magazine...She Reads ALL of them...She reads none. She knows nothing!
There is someone tutoring her? Sarah is being home schooled, only thing is she should be at home with her kids! And, as I have said Mom would say that that baby needs a schedule-and should be in his own crib at night-not being yanked down the steps of an airplane-in his Mom's arms while she is wearing HIGH heels and not holding the handrail-that's almost as bad as Michael Jackson holding his child over the balcony!!!!

Thursday, October 02, 2008
What is going on?
I thought that people read their local newspaper? Even if it's the local/local gossipy, coupon, what's for sale read it!
You read it for: coupons, new places, new faces, old faces, what politicians are doing, who is fundraising for a cause? What the hours of the local church services are? And, how's your pastor? Where the women meet for the Garden Club? Is there going to be a Christmas Crafts Sale/Fundraiser? Can I join? Who plays tennis?
I know people read this stuff. They find out the best places - for the best buys!
And, some people have the local paper delivered-or pick it up at the supermarket.
I love my local papers. I also love the New York Times, for the Home, Styles, Food and Fashions and also for the NEWS, WORLD AND LOCAL POLITICS AND INTERESTING STUFF WRITTEN BY INTERESTING PEOPLE. My FAV is the .The New York Post, Page Six, Liz Smith or Cindy Adams. I adore the sightings, who is wearing what, speaking out on what and also every picture you'd need of any singer, actor or pseudo celeb at whatever Grammy, Oscar or Music Party!
How come Sarah Palin could not come up with any newspapers, magazines, books or anything that she reads? She has to read!! Even if we are huddled reading a scary mystery-scary for me is Mary Higgins Clark or anything scary! Or, a Romance Novel-any romantic novel with the woman's breasts heaving and the hunky handsome man coming to her rescue. I know women read these! Well, why doesn't she read? How can she NOT read and BAN BOOKS?
Why does she condemn people for travelling out of the country-and make them seem like elitists. I met a young man and a woman on a Christian Mission to cities in Europe. They made rosary chains from fibers and knots. They were Midwest teens with an eye to the future-and teaching. I have met teens travelling with back packs to many countries-using Euro Rail passes and staying in hostels! How about kids who stay with local families and their counterpart is in America with a local family? You know, Sarah Palin IS limited! She's snarky and shrewish and nasty! Cindy McCain laughs in the background (at or with Sarah) as she mentions Joe Biden and how she was in 2nd grade listening to his speeches! I guess she didn't listen hard enough-and maybe she dismissed John McCain-because he was OLD and wasn't sweetsie enough-he's a maniac on the edge. Remember the Godfather?? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer!" John McCain, we know you are a war hero! We think you served your country well. You served your country-and suffered. But, you also came home to a sick wife and family-and just lifted (sexy & rich) Cindi off her feet-and courted her-while you wre still married to wife #1. Did it help that Cindi had the money to hire you as a spokesperson for the BEER company her father owned? Of course, you, yourself say you met a lot of people-and that's how your political career started! I saw that you are selling your BIG house for skeighty eight jillion dollars-which is just pocket money-now that we talk of TRILLIONS for a Bailout, a Rescue Plan-and a Wall Street Spa Party-but, did you hear that you have to spend: one hundred thousand dollars to just get a "LOOK SEE" inside the house? I guess you're looking for BIG money-any Arab Sheik-a Russian Trillionaire, a Movie Mogul, Angelinia Jolie, Brad Pitt and the kids??? What's up? Isn't John a little bit embarrassed-and why do it now??? To show HOW VERY RICH REPUBLICANS ARE! WHY? INVESTMENTS, OIL, MONEY? LAND, ACREAGE, GIFTS, LOBBYING, LOBBYERS, DICK HALLIBURTON CHENEY?, KARL ROVE (DISTRUSTFUL WAR MONGERS??)? I don't have the answer-but, why doesn't anyone want to listen To our wonderful President George Bush? Not even the Republicans want to listen to him! Do you think the Conservative Republican Christian Right will tune in and ADORE Sarah? Her wit, her hair or smile...? If she only had a brain!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
George Bush did not have a brain at the Press Club party-when he lurked and searched behind every chair and table for WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!!! HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN EMBARRASSED-MAKING FUN OF THE VERY THING THAT PUT OUR SOLDIERS IN HARMS WAY-AND SENT THEM OFF TO IRAQ-all to search for weapons that never existed! The voter has to be smarter now.

Friday, September 26, 2008
Here we are The Night of the DEBATE! I really don't care if OBAMA stands still and doesn't open his mouth (though I doubt that would happen!) Just let John McCain jump around with his rhetoric. McCain is a LIAR! I am so angry that that man chose an IDIOT for a Vice Presidential choice! She knows nothing. How could he possibly subject the Nation to an IDIOT who believes that "Putin rears his head and decides to fly over the air space of Alaska" and that's her International knowledge!!! Gee-she is simple! Maybe she knows how to capitalize on the birth of her newest son, Down's Syndrome Special Needs Baby, who, as my Mom would say: "SHOULD BE IN A ROUTINE, BE IN HIS BED SLEEPING, NOT HANDED AROUND" True, she would have said that of any baby. That baby should be loved and caressed, held close to your heart and given some love and care as a newborn baby. Not in the Republican Spotlight, dragged around, picked up from sleeping and placed in the lights and cameras of Political Life! John McCain likes to talk in circles! Wedging himself into the Washington SCENE ON ECONOMICS SO HE COULD STROLL AROUND PATTING HIS BUDDIES BACKS McCain PATS Lieberman's back (POOR HADASSAH), does he really believe in McCain???
Dopes, Cindy McCain with her designer duds, really believe in the policies of her husband? I do not think so. In Fact, I think Cindy disagrees-and is happy the spotlight is now on Sarah Painlin and not her! And, remember -children, adults, psychotics, masses, CANADA and RUSSIA are out the window of Sarah Palin, the state who she is the executive of. Nice sentence.
Please vote for OBAMA! You all want CHOICE! You want to listen to FERGIE or Madonna, Or Frank Sinatra, or Chopin, Mozart, Dolly Parton, Beatles, western, northern and eastern southern music. You do have a choice! Wear yor hair short, long, in curls or curlers, wear shorts, long pants, jeans, polyester! We all have choices and make them. Now, CHOOSE OBAMA, McCain WILL DICATE LIKE BUSH!
And, afterall, Sarah like Bush's stand on terrorism...I thought Bush and McCain are different. WE should strengthen our nation, our airports and harbors, strengthen the vehicles and armor our soldiers better brisges, better school and save our homes! Do you think McCain cares about that? He has 7 or 8 homes or how many cars.....13??? Is that like you?

Tuesday, September 23, 2008
First she says NO....then she says YES! Wow! Just a communication failure? The Lady from WaSilly is about to set forth into the International World, riding in on a Moose-toting a Show Gun and what does she do?? Just change her mind. Does she want to says NO OR YES!? Just ask a Campaign Manager or a Lawyer for the John McCain Campaign and they might be able to give you an answer!
Sarah (The Mother of the Republican Party)Palin bars, then admits reporters to meetings
Campaign spokeswoman says it was all just a 'miscommunication'

updated 5 minutes ago
NEW YORK - Republican vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin, who has not held a press conference in nearly four weeks of campaigning, initially barred reporters from her first meetings with world leaders Tuesday, but reversed course after they protested.

At first, campaign aides told the TV producer, print and news agency reporters in the press pool that followed the Alaska governor that they would not be admitted along with still photographers and a video camera crew taken in to photograph her meetings with Afghan President Hamid Karzai and Colombian President Alvaro Uribe, who are here for the United Nations General Assembly this week. She also was to meet later with former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger.

WEll, if she has to make up her mind on anything else-I hope it's whether she will wear one of Cindy McCain's designer jackets to the conference-or whther someone will run to Bergdorf's or Walmart??? Sarah Dear Painlin will make her mark in the BIG CITY! Watch out New York-here comes Sarah----make sure she has a map and driver-and maybe-just maybe, put her on a train...Will she ever return? No she'll never return and her fate is still unknown---poor old Sarah, she may ride forver thru the streets of New York-she's a woman who may never return!

Wednesday, September 10, 2008
I think that the whole deal to the Lipstick Brigade of the Foul Mouthed McCain Crowd is for Sarah Dear to become a spokesperson for Chanel, Dior, Bobby Brown, Maybeline, Clinique, Estee Lauder, Lancome, Sassy Lips, Fat Red Lips or some other make-up, cosmetics company. Doesn't she look like our Republican debutante who stopped the recount in Florida - Kathryn Harris??? WITCH! And, that since McCain referred to the Bubbly Bop of the Over Teen Blondes Britney Spears (who I hope will stay well) and my pal Paris Hilton (the money is no object girl(but her video was great) who reminds me of Betty Boop and maybe she can run for President.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Clean water, Internet coming to war-torn Fallujah by fall

By Antonio Castaneda

FALLUJAH, Iraq — Clean water should flow to 80 percent of Fallujah's homes this fall, and by summer's end a planned wireless network will provide phone service and Internet access to thousands, a technological leap unimaginable just months ago.
But mounds of rubble litter the city, electricity is available only four hours a day, and an estimated 50,000 people out of a population of about 300,000 still have not returned 18 months after Fallujah was destroyed in an American assault to wrest control from insurgents."
I'm not sure a primary goal of rebuilding Fallujah is Internet Service. How are the schools, food, shelter, aide to the sick and injured? So, who is rebuilding the infrastructure-and winning the TECH war? Who is making the money?

Monday, November 08, 2004
Fierce Fighting in Fallujah and what now? I guess, just PRAY that our men & women in the Armed Forces are safe & strong. They are our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, they are our family! God Speed!

Saturday, November 06, 2004
10,000 Troops in Fallujah and I pray that they are safe-but, I do know better! A year and a half after the fact-and we are now surrounding Fallujah-playing war games at a base-to figure out how to battle and insurgency! We just don't know and haven't studied the method-of how to WIN over the people of Iraq.Visit NPR.ORG to find out how we are studying to fight a battle that is on the current horizon! You can listen and learn-how our commanders are adjusting to a "new style" of warfare!
Friday, November 5, 2004
"After the fall of Saddam Hussein, the U.S. was reluctant to accept the threat of insurgents. Now, as troops in Iraq face a full-fledged insurgency, commanders are adjusting their tactics, and the Army has a new manual on counter-insurgency warfare."

Sunday, October 31, 2004
FINAL PHASE IN FALLUJAH?? has been in the NEWS constantly. As first obsessed upon here in April 2003. Fallujah has been a problem from the very beginning of our liberation! Why? Why was this city shoved aside-and allowed to become the strong hold of insurgents (?). How come the people of this city were not protected? If I knew that this was a problem-how come the Commanders of this Army didn't know? Why didn't Bush know? He said he is surrounded by such smart people and reiterated this-but what smart person, with knowledge didn't know about Fallujah?? Or, did they and this is just another reason to pit "us" against "them" scenario?

Sunday, October 10, 2004
I would not doubt it!
It's time for a change!
Vote for Kerry!

Saturday, August 14, 2004
POPE VISITS SHRINE LINKED TO MIRACULOUS CURES and THEY (The Pope, George Bush, Republican Conservatism and Religious Conservatism Laura Bush etc.) don't believe in stem cell research? But, they believe in a shrine, linked to miraculous cures? Well, if you believe in miraculous cures and healing-it';s time to take a scientific step forward!! Christianity, Judaism, Catholicism, Hinduism, Wicha, Folk Lore, Herbal Medicine??? SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY! And, no politics-just a future with less pain and suffering. Real Cures for illnesses: Cancer, Heart Disease, Diabetes, Parkinson!!!

Saturday, July 17, 2004
SLIMFAST has decided to revamp and update their website and how can you email them?  How can you voice your opinion or find out how to mail their product back to them?  Well, you can look on the back of the box and get the address.
Supporting Whoopi Goldberg and the Right to Free Speech is supporting Democracy!  It's the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights in the United States.  WHOOPI GOLDBERG SPEAKS OUT ABOUT SLIMFAST and the fact that they no longer have her representing the company! UNILEVER another LARGE Corporation who produces SLIMFAST and just happens to be based in West Palm Beach, FLORIDA, does not support a citizen who has the right to free speech, especially when it is our right to disagree or agree with politicians who are making decisions in this country-and have an interest in other countries!    Take a look at the homepage for UNILEVER and see what BRANDS this company produces!! It's a start-Lipton Tea, Dove Soap and many more-tjhat we can all STOP buying! We do have the Right to Choose!
It's an ELECTION YEAR-let's make sure that our vote counts!
And, I DO support all of our troops wherever they are-and wish they were all home!

Sunday, June 20, 2004
US Strike in Fallujah - Sixteen Killed and we are still trying to figure out what to do with Fallujah! Not a move since April-when troops backed out of the city. Is there any way to make a graceful and much needed exit from Iraq? I guess it will be when we TURN OVER the country to the reigning Ministers in Iraq. But, the question is-who would ever want to be in this group of people, when they are assassinated daily?

Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Never liked her-still don't! SPOILED JET SETTER! TROPHY WIFE!
May 12, 2004 -- JUST call her Queen Kimora. Kimora Lee Simmons, wife of hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons, was due to leave for London last Thursday at 9 a.m. with several dozen employees and servants for a weekend sponsored by Perrier Jouet champagne promoting her jewelry line. The minions arrived on time at a New Jersey airport where the Boeing 737 was gassed and ready for takeoff. Then they waited for Kimora, and waited - until 6 p.m. "She never called and never apologized," said one lackey. Her retinue later learned she was en route from L.A. where she's making a movie. "All was forgiven once the champagne started flowing freely on the plane." Russell defended his wife, saying the hard-working mother of two flew 19 hours straight to meet with Prince Charles and raise money for his charity. "The plane was supposed to leave at noon. Whoever showed up before that is an idiot."

Sunday, May 02, 2004
More American Deaths in The Sunni Triangle which includes the flashpoint of Fallujah. More American and Iraqi deaths all over Iraq!!! How many more troops must be maimed and killed? When will it finally come to an end? Do we have to stand by as Bush tells us that he has a plan? Look, I understand why everyone likes Bush-he's ever mans man, but he is sending our loved ones to War-and there's no plan. The problem-the violence and the deaths that are happening in Fallujah right now-are part of the plan that never was. To understand all of this-the basic problem is that the people of Iraq are not willing, nor do they want a Christian American Missionary to march in and dictate a new religion and philosophy of Democracy. They believe in something completely different that we do. And, a terrorist who believes he will be in a better place as a dead martyr has no chance to live-because a violent death for Islam is a better choice for him or her.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004
PRO- CHOICE-WOMEN STAND UP TOGETHER! IT'S YOUR BODY & YOUR RIGHT TO CHOOSE! It may feel like it's an overwhelming decision or choice about what to do if you become pregnant-but it is still YOUR CHOICE! Don't let someone else tell you how to determine what is right for you! YOU HAVE A CHOICE! And, that's just the way it should be. If you have an unexpected, unplanned pregnancy and you choose to have a child, keep that child or put that child up for adoption - that's your right. It's your body! And, it's your body if you choose to abort an unwanted pregnancy! It's your legal right-and your body! Do you ask the courts and hospitals about what religion to choose, clothes to wear, make-up to put on? Do you let someone else decide what you should or shouldn't eat, whether you get a tattoo, a piercing-what courses you want to take in school? Or, what job you'd be most happy with? If you have a choice-keep making choices-wise choices-wrong choices, good and bad choices! Everyone makes their own decisions in life!
Planned Parenthood of America, NATIONAL ORGANIZATION FOR WOMEN all give support to a women's rights to her health care, HER CHOICES and her future! Choose to discuss the options in your life-they are your God given right!

Monday, April 19, 2004

Why do I find this article and this picture of our VICE PRESIDENT so appalling!??? We never hear or see Dick Cheney-and there he is with a gun-ready for what? To defend himself and the President as they are questioned (together and not alone) before the review committees, questioning what exactly went on prior to 9/11 and what are our goals now? We all joked that he could never find China, that he was out looking for Bin Laden in the mountains and how the two of them (PRESIDENT AND V.P.) had to be kept apart for the continuity of this country-and now-dressed in their suits-they'll walk into the same spot and sit down and talk-man talk, war talk, gun talk, money talk, Haliburton talk, FBI, CIA talk. What are these two going to do-as proposed so credibly in Newsweek-they are Me and Mini Me! Doesn't any one else think it's pecurliar for them to be TOGETHER and not questioned apart---and this big cheery shot of our gun lover Dick Cheney?? He's a huntin' and a fishin' with the big, bad, guys. They hang out at the ranch and sit in the high courts and they just pretend to fly planes together, and not talk much-but what's really goinbg on? I want to know. Because something did pass me last week as our Predsident was at his ranch-that he was just a showing around some people, warm bodies to talk about hunting. We are dangling on a string, the lives of our sisters, brothers, mothers. fathers, husbands, wives, aunts & uncles, our children-dangling them on the line-and losing the best and the finest. And, we are not prepared. We may dump some Haliburton turkeys and flash in and out on a jet-but what is this army supposed to do-sit like a sitting duck-waitng fo a war lord to call out a challenge? Either we fight to win or we leave. No use sitting like a target. Seems as if Spain has decided to call it quits. Were we supposed to be waititng for a big coalition that never happend? And,, Cheney goes to Tokyo. He hangs out with gun lovers-as if they shouldn't be sensitive to restrictions on guns-ask Nancy Regan and James Brady about gun control and see how they feel. They "DO" have feelings on gun control!!!!! I hate that picture of Cheney with a gun-smirking!

Thursday, April 15, 2004
John O'Neills Last Night before he died in the World Trade Center Twin Towers attack! John O'Neill knew more than anyone knew and they tied his hands over and over again! Whyw asn't he given a passport to go back to view the USS Cole and investigate? Why did he leave the agency? What we don't know-we should know!

PBS Reports on John O'Neill who was a major FBI counter terrorism expert who left the FBI in August 2001 over criticism of George Bush's dealings with terrorism of Osama Bin Laden.

Renewed Fighting in Fallujah as a frail temporary truce falls apart! Some solution has to come out of this! And, it can't be that we have united more terrorists to wage a ground war in the country of IRAQ! We are not back to the streets of West Side Story or The South Bronx! There are parts of the USA that need as much help as the tired, war torn IRAQ. The Iraqis have to fight for their freedom too. How can we unite a nation that democracy does not appeal to? What do they know of democracy-if there has been a dictatorship-which is falling to the anarchists. Which head ring leader deemed cleric will come out with his war torn gangs to abuse and torture more people in the streets? How do we curtail gang wars so far away?
And, why didn't anyone know what anyone else knew? Hasn't the government of the people for the people and by the people learned the lesson of sharing that they should have learned in kindergarten. Didn't Sean P. Diddy Coombs want to bestow computers on the City of New York? How about giving them to the FBI?

Friday, April 09, 2004
A lawsuit was filed September 3, 2003 by the family of John O'Neill alleging a direct link between Al Qaeda and Iraq. John O'Neill and the Iraq, Fallujah Connection.

The Lawsuit Against Iraq & Participants of September 11, 2001 World Trade Center Attack as filed by the family of John O'Neill, Sr.

Fallujah-A Year After The Fall of Baghdad and now what? What re the plans that our President has in mind-as he jets off to his Crawford Retreat for Easter? What about our soldiers and civilians and the civilians of the world who are dying, being wounded and kidnapped in Iraq?
When should we have dealt with the problems in Fallujah-immediately-not one year later-after we have allowed the insurgents to re-group-re-arm and attack Americans who are there to let the Iraq people gain "FREEDOM"???
And, now we stand back and allow the people of Fallujah to bury their dead, the women and the children march along with their dead martyrs!
And, as this article mentions:
"The Fallujah operation even prompted one of the most pro-American members of the U.S.-picked Governing Council, Adnan Pachachi, to condemn the U.S. assault on the city, which for some Iraqis has become a symbol of resistance.

“These operations were a mass punishment for the people of Fallujah,” Pachachi told Al-Arabiya TV. “It was not right to punish all the people of Fallujah and we consider these operations by the Americans unacceptable and illegal.”

So, I ask-what to do next? President Bush, Dick Cheney, Rumsfield, the team-what next, sit and have your Easter dinner as if nothing is happening???? Maybe secretly jet off to Iraq with an Easter Bunny? Condi-are you aware there is a war going on-and connecting the dots started in Kindergarten???

Thursday, April 08, 2004
John O'Neill Counter Terrorirsm Expert-Head of the Washington FBI Bureau is highlighted in this article in the New Yorker magazine. Rather long-but definitely informative with information about Richard Clarke, the hunt for terrorists and O'Neills unending fight to find and fight terrorism! The year is 1995! And, Clarke died September 11, 2001.

Isn't it ironic-that Barnes & Noble does not have this book in stock-nor on order! Not one copy of: John O'Neill-The FBI'S Embattled Counterterror Warrior the former assistant FBI Director and expert on terrorism! Please read below!
And, after Condoleeza Rice-National Security Advisor, testified so eloquently-about her inferior knowledge in the area of National Security! As they say in a Court of Law-you knew or should have known-about certain subjects that are you are supposed to an expert about!
Whose blood was boiling-she asks-plenty of people-what about the Taliban-the Afghanistan renegades-disguised as your local Cleric! How does one become a Cleric? Do they have a gang of members band around you-and pay them??? Do you preach like a layman-and become an Unearthly Militant Clerical Fascist?

Wednesday, April 07, 2004
John P. O'Neill-FBI former assistant FBI Director and an expert on terrorism, was in the World Trade Center on September 11th, 2001. His body was recovered on September 21, 2001. It was his first day on the job as Head of Security for The World Trade Center. He had worked on the USS Cole bombing and the bombings at the United States Embassy headquarters in Kenya & Tanzania and the World Trade Center. Capturing Ranzi Yousef, the mastermind of the first World Trade Center bombing!
A poem to read about this intuitive man!The Ballad of John O'Neill Please read this poem-in honor of this man-who lost his life on September 11, 2001.
Read The Man Who Warned America, John O'Neill, FBI Counter Terrorism Expert by Murray Weiss to see exactly what this man knew-and what he told the political machinery and the world about terrorism-Bin Laden, Iraq, Muslim Practices and the information he had about being targeted with planes & the terrorist network in America!!

FIERCEST FIGHTING TAKES PLACE IN FALLUJAH since the WAR ENDED!! When did the war end? Shock & Awe? (Which is a lot more deadly than a "Shock Jock!" Because you can't change the channel!!") When President Bush declared the END of the WAR on a swooping photo op on an Air Force Carrier? When we allowed Fallujah to fester like a rancid infested rat hole for over a year-allowing our troops to become bigger and more susceptible targets in the game of War!? Do the people in Iraq really understand what FREEDOM or DEMOCRACY is? Do they care about understanding OUR way of government?
My heart goes out to every family of a service woman & service man in Iraq and around the world. The battlefield for Democracy and Freedom is not always fought in the place is should be fought!
And, why did it take so long for anyone to realize that this WAS happening? Fallujah has been uppermost on my mind as a critical area for over a year! Quietly, like the gangs of the 50s, like the Mafia of the 30s, like the insurgents all over the world...they sat quietly, constructing and ordering weapons, playing mind games and setting up battle plans, while we stood by-watching the Republican Professionals line their pockets - Dick Cheney, Energy Commission stonewalling, Halliburton, Justice Scalia and hunting and fishing.....what for?
What is the plan in Iraq? What was the plan for Osama Bin laden in Afghanistan? What is the plan for the
ultimate turnover of the reins of government in these countries-and who are we turning it over to?
And, my last questions... if anyone can answer this....where are the posters printed they the militants hold up?? Someplace there has to be a printing factory. They have to transport these materials!! They need large quantities of food, supplies, ammunition & weapons!!! Will Tee Shirts come next? And, where are all the weapons coming from and how did they get there?

Tuesday, April 06, 2004
Cleric Vows Resistance as US Marines and Coalition Troops Try to Control FALLUJAH!. Asd I have said for a year-there is something happening here-and why wasn't this one of the main places to be settled-early-in OUR War against TERRORISM? What did OUR President plan to do-when he said that the WAR was OVER on the Air Force carrier? What is happening to our Son's, Father's, our Mother's and Daughters as they fight in a foreign country that simply does not want to accept Democracy? Does not KNOW Democracy! How do you explain to people who were on the "take" during Saddam Hussein's regime-that they have no work? No money? No economy?
What about our out-sourcing of jobs to foreign countries-as our economy struggles and people are out of jobs in America-and our gas prices shoot higher-and our President stonewalls the most common questions and the VP Dick Cheney-lays low-still fighting not to reveal what actually went on during his energy commission meetings. Hello! Halliburton! Here, there and everywhere????

Thursday, April 01, 2004
I hear the same rhetoric in the newspapers, magazines, and on television. I see the talking heads and no one mentions the connecting of major dots! Why isn't anyone speaking out about John O'Neill and what part he played in trying to help counter terrorism? John O'Neill-Countered Terrorism and see how long this man had been working to let the government know what he feared! And, he gave his life at the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, working as the security adviser for these very buildings! He knew-and they didn't like what he said or his style! Why? Notice the name Richard Clarke mentioned at the beginning of the article! Where is someone like Chris Matthews who has such strong feelings about getting to the truth?

Another Fallujah Attack and the Bush administration is the same as the old Bush administration. If you had a year to work this out in this area-and I know about it-then how come this area is not secure and Bush DECLARES the END OF THE WAR and this still goes on?? Someone had to know something!

Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Jubilant Fallujah Loyalist Ambush kills nine Americans and bodies are dragged through the streets as young boys and men cried out that they were the resistance! No attempts were made to secure the area or send emergency vehicles because the militarism and bombing by the Iraqi' resistance has become totally out of control!
Is this the NEW Vietnam? Didn't Bush declare that the war was over? Now what? When is someone going to either secure Fallujah or leave? We can not leave our soldiers to die! Tortured, burned and mangled? NO!

NINE Killed in Fallujah in a bloody bombing with corpses dragged through the streets! And, cheering! Why? Why isn't something done about this place, that is so conveniently called a FLASHPOINT? It's a city out of control-filled with rebels, insurgents and warlords! Suipporters of Saddam Hussein? Haters of the US? Why have it be this way anymore? Why risk one more life in a place-that even I know is NOT a good place and have known for so many months! I'm not an expert on wars, or a military person, I read-and know!
What is wrong?

Thursday, March 25, 2004
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Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Militant Al-Qaida Ambush Pakistani's in Wana was the NEWS of today! Tribal militants and terrorists who have a safe haven on the Pakistani border are retaliating against the Pakistani troops which have been sent to the border in search of Taliban and Al Qaida terrorists! We must face the fact that there are areas that we are not able to police or touch, unless we have total control. These are the areas that were left to the rule of the brutal-restrictive-religious zealot Taliban, who erased past history and dynamited the ancient Buddha which should have been preserved by the Untied Nations! Later the Taliban enabled terrorists to hide in Afghanistan, as well as rule the country with a tyrannical dictatorship! All funded by illegal monies and Bin Laden funds!
Interesting item on Page Six by Cindy Adams in the New York Post about Bin Laden's niece, Waffa Bin Laden: EVERYONE's galumphing around hunting that bed sheet Osama bin Laden. Why not follow Waffa bin Laden, his handsome niece. She had a million dollar loft on Spring Street with $6,000 a month maintenance. Over a Thai restaurant, it featured a huge mural the length of her whole wall. The mural was of The Twin Towers.

She also has a place in Switzerland, flat in London and schleps through the Riviera in season with $500 designer jeans, Jimmy Choos and friends who are downtown European-type jet-setters. She speaks of Uncle Osama. She's worth, give or take a few of those Audemars Piguet diamond watches she wears, $30 mil. Twenty-eight, the pop singer wannabe now lives in Europe, she still speaks to New York pals who are in showbiz and record producers. She invites them to visit her. She talks music. She gets showbiz advice. She had a boyfriend/manager who called her "the next Madonna."

Waffa was very out front p.r.-wise pre-9/11. Supermarket tabs, newspapers, TV blondes interviewed her. Then, two months before 9/ll, she told friends, "Get out of New York for a while." And she, too, got out of New York.

Her father, Yeslam, is one of Osama's 29 brothers. Maybe Uncle's hiding but she isn't. Anyone checking out Waffa, her kinfolk or her telephone?

Sunday, March 21, 2004
Congratulations to ESR!
I love you!

Fallujah: More Deaths and Wounding!! of American soldiers and Iraqi civilians. What is our plan in Fallujah? And, how is it possible with our supposed "Shock And Awe" that hot beds of militants and terrorists are still using rockets to kill Iraqi and Americans? Citizens and Soldiers must be protected.

McSweeney's Downtown for Democracy Readings are populated with the brightest writers, musicians and celebrities! "Where's My Democracy" in a fight to Beat Bush in November! I do wish that this organization could mobilize with the Democrats and bring their brilliance to Broward County/Palm Beach. Florida in a Monumental Fundraiser! If Lou Reed or Jonathan Franzen is listening; PLEASE!! We are a State in need of your support to Beat Bush!
Six Degrees of Separation & People We Know and Lake Oscawana! I know you will hear me!
Page Six the New York Post:
March 20, 2004 -- FAMED choreographer Stephen Petronio has enlisted some bold-faced buddies for his latest project, "The Island of Misfit Toys," which opens Tuesday at the Joyce Theater. Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson composed the music, artist Cindy Sherman designed the set, and Imitation of Christ's Tara Subkoff dreamed up the clothes. Immediately following the opening night performance, Petronio's posse celebrate the 20th anniversary of his dance company at Provence with Mikhail Baryshnikov, Sandra Bernhard, Anne McNally, Franceso Clemente and Timothy Greenfield-Sanders.

Tribal Wars in Wana on the Pakistan Border seem to be running fiercely. Seven thousand troops encircle an area of militant tribal Pakistani's, in a town that is populated by 50,000 with 70,000 more coming into the area for commerce daily. An interesting area-which seems at odds with the area-populated, paved roads and a thriving, though poor area, with warring tribal leaders, feuds, kidnappings and the residual Taliban-possibly those that fled Afghanistan. As Fallujah has proven a hotbed for militant resistance, so it seems that Wana will be the next place. Still today Fallujah proves to be a place that MUST be viewed as an extremely dangerous area . Guerillas In Fallujah and another death of our one of our country men. The toll is now 383-after President Bush declared VICTORY on our Battleship with much flourish and politcal campaign propaganda!
There were 70,000 Pakistani troops in this area in 2001 after the fall of the Taliban-only to have regrouped in another form-at a later time-and that time is now.
Pakistan Captures Islamic Militants but who they are and what they are capable of-is still the question. The "hidden" Taliban are very capable of reigns of terror and destruction. Money is not an issue with Osama Bin Laden still in an unknown location!

Thursday, March 18, 2004
Don't forget to support you favorite charity. There will be a run on Saturday for the Pediatric Juvenile Diabetes Association. Support a runner. Fort Lauderale Florida.
Politics1 is the place to keep up with your local Democratic Committee and compare our two party system. See who is running and cares about your future! John Kerry is our future!

Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Great site for all the news about The Soprano's!!! Pictures and places to search for on your tour of New Jersey Mobville! Soprano Sue has dedicated this site to sightings of the mob family, places to visit and explanations of all the favorite haunts of the nuclear Soprano family!

And, as The Soprano's starts off the year, North Caldwell, New Jersey hits the front page!
"No wonder Tony — who now bunks in, of all places, the shabby house of his despicable late mother — drifts back home on any pretext. There he scraps with Carmela, barks at sullen son A.J. (Robert Iler), chugs orange juice out of the carton as if he still ruled the roost, and pretends none of the fault is his.

It’s all part of a scramble for some sense of normality, for getting back a world that’s familiar and reliable. Happily for viewers, the search on “The Sopranos” this season could come with many new pitfalls."

Split Ends"

"In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less"
Walt Whitman

I was naive and young with two young children. Divorce had never entered my mind until the year
that all things fell apart. Was it the nights spent alone, dinner cold on the table with babies fed and bathed. No husband in sight. Was it their father relaxing and reading as the world turned and he was orbiting...nowhere to be found! Was it the night I planned that HUGE platter of fresh tomatoes and
basil and it was left uneaten? Think so? You’re right!
Could it be this new game of golf or was it the old game of tennis? It was apparent-there was someone else. And, though I confronted him over and over-he always said NO and denied it. Too many late nights, people calling who he was supposed to be at dinner with, weekends with his friends golfing and I was never included...or was it Father’s Day, June 1986 that finally brought the world to a halt. "I’d like to go with you-I asked and as he turned and said NO, it’s just the boys." I knew. He wasn't there for me or for the kids and I was on an island alone. Stupidity and inertia allows you to be duped and I was duped. Clear as a bell the Madonna and perfect mother-the Working Girl down the hall who worked so hard that she was ready for marriage #3 chose my "sweet, sensitive husband" as her attorney and thus the client /lawyer privileged nights of her woes, became my nightmare. Ever try divorcing a slimy attorney (and this is no joke) in the State of NJ with the good old boys looming over your head and all they care about is whether they can put a lien on your home and get your money from you-as the blood is flowing out of your arms-because bloodletting is the sport of the Tribunal. I was devastated. In love. So much time lost-such hurt and pain that the suffering would go on for years as the money dwindled. He was "poor" by the time the divorce was final. Poor on paper? Poor in quality of being? Just POOR! And, he lead the life of the secret wannabe jet setter with the fancy cars and homes and his oh so fancy "paramour", you see, she had worked so long and hard and had suffered in squalor so long that it was time to take her rightful pace in the noveau elite! She was ready to retire. I was ready to continue working as if all time had stood still. Yes, there is anger-for the time ripped from me with my boys. For the ache in my heart. For the stupidity and inability to move on. And, now as I see them all in the mist that has become the "nouveau riche" and the house "out east", The Hampton’s, I see how easily you can be conned by the ones you love. I always trusted men. I had been surrounded by men. Two brothers and a loving father. A mother who skipped the A’s and jumped to the B’s-Babies. Why hadn’t she taught me about Attorneys and Accountants? Because she was born in 1919 and a woman of the 50s. A loving wife and mother, a dinosaur to be replaced by scathing women who care very little as long as they get what they want. And, the doll that strutted her self down the hall from my husbands office had won her trophy-Husband #3!


Monday, February 16, 2004
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One of my favorite Sci-Fi's is Invasion of the Body Snatchers, well, seems as if it's now: iPOD Body Invaders!. I knew it would come to this!
If there were so many people who said they couldn't live without their iPODS-rather than the true necessities-food and water...there was going to be a BIG PROBLEM! Zombies on the streets of New York, Chicago, LA, not that they weren't filled with this before-just a new and different twist to Metropolis!

Saturday, February 14, 2004
Happy Valentine's Day!

Thursday, February 12, 2004
It had to be you...The Great American Song Book! Read Rod Stewart's The Great American Song Book! for the lyrics from his newest CD'S! I'll be looking at the moon-and I'll be seeing you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday, February 07, 2004
Okay, I found myself at the RIGHT concert!!! YAY! Of course I KNEW that the concert with
ROD STEWART!!! was going to be bliss, but I was even more happily surprised that it was sold out-wild and definitely beautiful! Long Live Rock N' Roll! Yes, more years have passed than Rod knows, but since 1969 and Maggie Maywe have been in love! Okay,so I really, really like him! (As, Sally Field might say!)
There was a time when Maggie was the older woman and I longed to be her-well, I am her and I still think of late September and getting back to school-stealing my daddies cue and making a living out of playing pool. Maybe he'll find himself a rock n' roll band and who knows what??? The September's of my life have dawned-I now know that many of us have traded places-but we are who we are-and I am still longing with the same wonderment-as I did then-and Rod Stewart does too!
Forever Young, Do you Think I'm Sexy, Tonight's the Night and so many more, Rod had the arena in the palm of his hand and we loved him too!
There have been a few enduring loves: Rod Stewart, Walt Frazier and of recent, Chris Isaak and of course Adam Vinatieri, yes the New England Patriots did win-just like they were supposed to! With a graceful kick by Adam. Just as graceful as Rod Stewart kicking the soccer balls into the audience!
I have to say, he did lose me for the second half of the concert-as he began his big band crooning-though done well, and a big hit-I missed the crazy, wild Rod Stewart! But, he did come back strong! Including a song done by Louie Prima of the Louis Prima & Keely Smith duo, which "must" mention Keely Smith because she was an intricate part of the successful team! Louie walked out with all the money and left Keely with two children and an a heart that was cared for by the Rat Pack! So, for Keely Smith-here's to you! I always loved those tight waisted skirts and your twirl & demeanor! You were his Gracie Allen and deserve respect! Just as Rod gave respect to his back up with a solo of Proud Mary and devastating saxophone equal to the E Street Band and Bruce Springsteen and a violinist that was as beautiful as Bob Dylan's fav violinist Scarlett Rivera!
I'll be looking at the moon, and I'll be seeing you!
It just could not have been better! Unless I was in the front row! But, to be there is enough and the seats were wonderful! The montage put together was a trip in history, Rod & I at every stage of our lives and great black and white photographs of New York and the Big Band Era! Including Sam Cooke!
And, Rod has no fear about covering other peoples music. He is smooth, graceful and a stage presence! I guess that's why he "IS" Rod Stewart!
So, to Rod, thanks for a wonderful evening! I couldn't be happier! Thank you!

Sunday, February 01, 2004
Adam Vinatieri kicker for the New England Patriots stands out! #4-Adam-we next to you! Tom Brady we are next to you, too! A fabulous team!
And, with Steve Tyler/Tallerico of Aerosmith starting off the game-we KNOW that we are all rooting for the New England Patriots!

Tuesday, January 27, 2004
Three More Soldiers Killed near the town of Fallujah. It's a hot bed for strikes against US soldiers, Iraq Soldiers, women, men and workers. And, something has to be done. Something or someone acts from this position of strength and support. Why should we stay here and just be accepting of the fate of our men & women in the service? And, when the reports are that soldiers are injured-remember a bandaid does not heal these kind of wounds.
As reported in the Miami Herald we are fighting to uproot an Al Qaida Cell in Fallujah a staunch anti-American area where many have been killed.
On January 8th a Black Hawk Helicopter Downed killing 9 soldiers and wounding 33 more. Fallujah is said to be a "flash point", so what was the point of "Shock and Awe" if we can't control one area that is the most dangerous for our soldiers.
There comes a time when a liberated nation, free of its dictator has to take over and control its own people. If there are to be religious factions, warlords, or fringe groups all fighting with each other and the United States, we have to realize that this is a Guerilla War and take out troops out of harms way. Bring them home where they can be safe-and perform another shock and awe, and than let our President declare an end to the war on a naval ship, with all the regalia of a photo op for the most brilliant Survivor Show.

Monday, January 19, 2004
Sara Brightman, the former star of Phantom of the Opera , 1969 as Christine, starring opposite Michael Crawford, a part written for her by Andrew Lloyd Weber her ex-husband and brilliant composer, continues to perform! Please Andy-we need another part written just for her!
We never knew what “it” was called during High School, but a friend coined the phraseology.
“It starts in your toes and works its way up to your knees and suddenly you’re bolting out of the room.” Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) in The Godfather, Part Two and Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini) in The Soprano’s have suffered panic attacks. Michael’s infamous attack happened when he found out that his brother already knew Johnny Ola (Dominick Chianese) and he had taken him to the “sex club” in Havana, Cuba. Michael rubs his eyes knowingly-and fades in and out as his eyes search for the man who will kill his brother Fredo because he had turned against the family! As if anyone needs to know this!!
But, I need to know this-because I suffered a panic attack at “The Sara Brightman Spectacular Spectacular!!!!
And, I had a riveting awe-inspiring evening!
A Night With Sara Brightman.
Fluttery-absurd, self-involved with a huge crowd of pansexual admirers.
One who exhibits or suggests a sexuality that has many different forms, objects, and outlets. One who exhibits many forms of sexual expression.
pan·sex·u·al • (noun)
I think pansexual is a broader term than bisexual because it includes not only loving both men and women but also transgendered people and gender fluid people who do not feel they fit into categories of male or female.

Consisting of homosexual, asexual, metrosexual, heterosexual, gay, queer, lesbian, transsexual, transvestite, dominant, submissive, male female-genderless, gender crossing, femme, butch, dyke, bois of varying degrees of life, including but not limited to a sexual/non-sexual person.
How is it possible that Sara Brightman could actually perform an act that was Cher in drag? CHER is a TOP RATE DIVA, superior in all ways to Sara Howling Screech!
But, Sara Honey- your confetti is the most egocentric thing a person can do! Making someone, anyone, clean confetti crap (is it pixie dust?) off his or her person is an insult! Twinkle? I do not like the idea of cleaning up someone else’s mess-especially when it is a planned message sent to you with “love”. Get off your swing, pass down the Tinkerbell/Peter Pan torch-and stop playing little girl lost-waving to the crowd with a fluttery hand that would help Miss America search for a cause! And, get rid of the tutu!
I enter “The Sara Brightman Spectacular Spectacular”.
Pre-Show, The Bathroom Boutique
I asked two women if they were on line. Just wanted to position myself-as the leggy blonde with the very done/surgical/young face turned and snapped: YES! I stood behind her as I noticed, black stiletto heels strapped at the ankle. Black sheer stockings, the tightest shortest black skirt. A strange fitted jacket, a bit long, large shoulders and sequins at the sleeves. Her face was the immaculate presence of an augmented faced, collagen-lipped doll. Her hair fell into a soft flip-but why was she wearing a wig-and anyway-wasn’t she really too young to have her face done that way? She marched off as time ticked on, teetering on her heels-side to side. I was impressed.
Finding my way back to the proper area, I sat down and told my partner about this fair maiden. As she marched up the aisle to her seat-she was met by a large metal bar-a railing blocking her way. Now, any woman would have glided around, said excuse me and sat in her seat. But, this woman, dressed in a skirt as tight as a tube of paint, heaved her leg, heels and all, over the railing, to properly seat next to her middle aged male mate. What and who was SHE really?
My companions were not in love with our seats being the ultimate fans of Sara Brightman and so we headed to our new seats-filling the lower decks of the auditorium. The promoters wanted this to appear to be a full house.
Sara Brightman arrived on stage channeling a five year old in her fairy princess costume. Riveted towards the stage as the I Dream of Genie Gals shimmied their asses and boobs at us-and noxious gases arose around the stage-I was met by what I now know to be-The Harem Tour! Sara brings her girls, no men, to dance in a limited fashion as she pirouettes cautiously down the stage-high stepping and not doing much else. I did see her rise above the audience on a glowing phallic symbol. Was the applause for the song or the stage rising? And, there was Sara swinging on a swing as if she was Jessica Lange in King Kong and she flew above the stage as Mary Martin in Peter Pan. Do we praise the stagehands for bearing the burden of the strings-or for Sara continuing to howl in her diminutive way?
A cross between Jim Morrison nodding on Peyote or Mescaline as the strobe lights glitter-limited back up-except for the covering orchestra-a mandolin and one person meditating with a tambourine! (Do not let me forget the duet-properly introducing someone who sang 2 or 3 lines and left the stage. Afraid of being upstaged, Sara honey?) Poor costumes. A variation of Red and Green (post Xmas-pack up the stuff) and harem costumes transforming themselves into The Dominatrix Girls in a shiver and a strip!
Sara Brightman, leggy in a silver lame teddy/costume with jingles, fringe and crystals and stunning thigh high boots-we are the picture of a stage stripper-with a bellowing voice-that is only challenged by the speaking voice-which is that of her five year old British persona.
And, as I watch the stage-the blond in the first row, directly in front of the stage-has to sit on her buddies lap to get a better view-as her head waggles in the shimmer of light-will someone managing the stage tell her sit her ass down-or is she so enthralled that the rest of the auditorium has to watch the blond doll’s performance?
Have you ever found yourself at the wrong concert? You knew you had tickets to go someplace-but this was not the right place, the place you belong. The place that makes the beat of your heartbeat smoothly-not anxiously annoyed?
Singing “Procol Harem’s, A Whiter Shade of Pale”, I am drawn to the fact-that she does not reach me at all. Blasphemy! Masked Diva, of “Eyes Wide Shut” while the Princess of flowing tutu scales the heights on her swing.
I am not quite sure why there is a standing ovation. I am sure that this is an audience in love with Ms. Brightman, and I am happy that you found yourselves at the “right” concert. Whether she has coyly copied the likes of Cher, Carmen Miranda, Charo or Barbara Eden in “I Dream of Jeanie”, she is appealing to a large, devoted flock of people. People who love props, the appeal of the illusion, and the dark dominatrix fading to the innocent, glittery, Fairy Princess. The howl of a stage voice, crossed with a scream! If only I had worn a long, fluffy, curly, black wig and dressed in black or as Tinkerbell with my chiffon sleeves and little rhinestone crown, maybe I too, would have felt like I belonged.
But, I did not. And, I do not like cleaning up after you Ms. Brightman. I like listening to many female artists and male artists, but you are my least favorite. Thank you very much-for the finale and the ending to your “Spectacular Spectacular”! I truly, wistfully enjoyed the end.

Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Sunday PM, AM, Winter In New York
It was late, we had crossed DeLancey and gone around so many corners that lights flashed and arrows pulsated. Buildings looming at the side of the street-large, ominous. Had J&J just said to me earlier that they too lived in this building and how did someone I knew have such a prestigious apartment on the top floor? Luck, I surmised-I knew little. Crossing the threshold of the building, I knew what to do, how to get in-but I was oblivious-and so, my friend came down and rescued me, Prince in tow. We talked for hours. Finally, I was going to get a bit of peace. A large bed, a place to lay my head. Exhaustion. I lay down-drifting into another land. But, the city was hot, very hot and steam heat radiated throughout the room. Windows open-air at a premium. And, the sounds of the city. New, noisy horns, buses, sirens!! I had heard it all-growing up, so close to the elevated train. But, new to the ears of a dreaming soul.
And, as dawn approached, as if an occupying force was entering the city. Religious, Fanatical, Fascists, Nazi's, Booming Boxes?? What was the sound piercing the early morning breeze? A sermon, played on a loud speaker-indistinguishable noise shouted to the heavens, to the masses, bleary eyed, I questioned why? Freedom of speech, right to choose, where to worship, what to listen to-I had no choice. I drifted on a cloud of babble and dozed.

iPODS Dirty Secret is brilliant. Ever since I read New York Magazines Personals.Com section-which is a bit underwhelming (original format desired!), I wondered, what is an iPOD and how had I managed to live without it for so long? You see, most singles personal advertisers had listed their iPOD as something they could not live without. And, so, I happened upon this commentary by the Neistat brothers and I applaud them!
And, for those of you, like me, who do not know what an iPOD is you can view APPLE-iPOD
The super-slim iPod defines what a digital music player should be. It’s lighter than two CDs, can hold up to 10,000 songs, thousands of digital photos and works as a personal voice recorder. Now you can sync with iTunes for Mac and Windows at blazing speeds, and take your entire music collection with you wherever you go. Available for Mac and Windows starting at $299.

By the way, has anyone figured out where cell phone users can go, when using their phones? Phone Booths are obsolete, but the yabbering of the cell phone user is both annoying, distracting and a major disturbance-especially in public places. It's second hand sound, like second hand smoke, just louder, more obnoxious and self centered. It's a new group of people orbiting in another dimension, but with you! Twilight Zone anyone? Who cares what DVD or CD your child will listen to at their next play date? Or, whether you have to get an older person an aide, into assisted living or out of your life?
Ms. Manners where did you go?

Tied Tight
They are taut, high strung, strung out, pulled, crisp, too fast, too intense, rushing.
Slapping the wind with briskness as they shop-razor sharp. They are the women of fashionable New York, Madison Avenue and Fifth Avenue. Tightly wound as a rubber band, ready to be snapped. Is this energy and hypocrisy, a source of the dilemma of being so uptight that you can almost say, they can never be tight enough?
Is the winter Mongolian fur or Shearling fitted and long, swinging and loose, revealing your boots, too black, too high, and too pointy? Have we turned the mass appeal into no appeal as all who walk, rush, push, eat or shop fall into categories of androgenonous fame or non-fame? I see them. I have always seen them. I have always loved the energy of the “happy feet” as they walk the streets of New York. But, now, they are indistinguishable from one another. There’s the frosted blonde, brunette and the red hennaed head of hair. Fussy, unfussy, pulled together and put together with nothing other than an accessory so interchangeable that it swiftly moves from a shopping bag with newly purchased possessions to adorable children as prized possessions. Yes, these are the women of Madison Avenue.
I stroll through the Metropolitan Museum Of Art seeing the happy family of the familiar and the crisp display of the new. Images passing before me of grandeur, creativity, artistry of another world. Was it the El Greco with the haunting Icon imagery or the Men in Skirts display at the Costume Exhibit? The daguerreotypes and black and white images of times passed, a glimpse of what was, compared to what is? Shall Salome sit at the edge of the hall as I glide past her, watching her eyes follow me like an image at The Clift, Ian Shragers Hotel?
Was it the Temple of Dendur, overwhelming, grand, sitting quietly in the space of this huge room, as I was weaving my way to the display of the Frank Lloyd Wright room, deconstructed, resurrected, that brought me such peace? Having arrived, I am simply, blissfully happy! I could stay the day, many days, meandering through the treasures of the cultures of the ages.
Architecture, glass, oil, canvas, metal, wood, stone, alluding to all that truly is important and not disposable-this is reality.
And, yet the women of the city are like a herd of common, yet elite cattle-has mad cow disease bestowed itself upon them? There are no distinguishing features. The table is full-four women sit-faceless, ageless, I do not turn. High powered-comprehensive, significant! The voices of the all important (as I eavesdrop on the bizzness culture) lunching at the corner coffee shop are clippy, snippy, direct. “Our team can work with your team, and we can bring so much to the table, that our plate is not full or is our plate full? Our team is full of ideas to work with your team. And, we must be exposed in areas we have never been exposed before. Should we try the Metro Section, New York Post with a tidbit on Page Six? New York Magazine? Or the most not let us forget the ever-growing Internet.”
And, now for the animal mundane. “Who will use the bathroom first? How many rooms are there? Who will watch the table, our coats?” The cattiness begins as one by one the women leave the table to take their turns. A different dynamic erupts each time. Voices grow deep, strong, and shrill. We are setting goals and undermining our goals, we are multi-faceted, pure strategies of gossip, manipulation to claw our way, our team’s way into position. Is this a huddle of sorts without the field and paraphernalia that men adorn themselves in-for each Sunday’s game? This is the game.
Grand Central, newly illuminated, grand, a city within a city, cold, stark, a median lobby, a space station, running, lots of running. Men in black, wrapped, women, clicking, black coats flailing, iPODS, cell phones, brief cases, Palm Pilots, they are cut and dry-the warriors of New York as they head to their tunnel-cramming their bodies into tubes with heads wrapped, hairy or bald, young or old, riding the rails to home-wherever that may be.
But, the question is when will they don their skirts? Because that is what the Met is introducing as topic of the period: Costume Exhibit: Bravehearts-Men In Skirts!

Please scroll down for earlier entries of The Evil Lord DePukly, Land of Fet Flawber and the monstrous Chegly Begbelly, Obnoxia.

"The Drill" of DePukly
A messenger had been sent to DePukly, Lord of Fet Flawber, making him aware of the dilemma of one of the Rosarians. Help was needed. Though the words were biting and stung many hearts-he was unmoved, methodical, critical and filled with retribution. No understanding of humanity surrounding him. A child in need.
Stealthy he swiped his large body across the newly acquired rugs, from lands far from his manse. He called it finding them, but truly it was appropriation. Take what you want-and leave nothing for anyone. Sweat poured from his body. Thrusting open the window over the courtyard; he burst forth, tumbling out onto the balcony. Bellowing at his servants and townspeople below-venting, he began, “ I will not jump to any decisions about the Rosarian. He has had a mere set back. I have heard the story before”. (It was well placed on a sheaf of parchment, delivered to him earlier.) He had replied to those surrounding him, “I have heard the drill.” (This was his interpretation of what all who were wise knew, but he would bury the truth.) “I will not embrace this or accept it” Of course there was an unintelligible fear of disgrace. When all had been announced to the crowd, taking no more than a minute. “I will do nothing about this,” he hissed this like a slovenly animal worming its way across the mud. Screaming he said, “And, now that I do not agree with the assessment, who will dare to yell at me?” A whisper was heard fro the small crowd below, “No. Thank you.” And they were on their way, knowing better than to involve themselves with this recent ruling.
The crowd disbursed when the shutters were flung closed. With this, his dear wife and mistress, Chegly Begbelly Obnoxia heaved her massive body over DePukly, smothering him in grime and flesh. Her fungus encrusted nails burrowed their way into his neck, drawing the awful stagnant blood. A shrill from her throat, “I challenge you, I shall scream!” This said, while Depukly lay writhing in pain.
And, a dove fluttered from a land far away, singing Mex, Mex, Mex, a sound that emanated from the birds of the heavens for scores of years. It was part of the history.

Thursday, January 08, 2004
It started on the subway to Fulton Street in New York City. No, not a sighting of Britney Spears or Madonna...just a booming voice as the train started rumbling along. Packed as we were like sardines or tic tacs and a captive audience - no harm to come?? We are New Yorkers, after all! Sam Kenyon stood near me. Guiding me through the tunnels of the underworld of New York, Sam Kenyon was a Superman, undaunting in his travels through the netherworlds, above and below the city!
"THE VOICE" started with his monologue-though as typical New Yorkers-neutral and idling we stood.
Could this be a Seinfeld episode or Larry David on Curb Your Enthusiasm?
"MaaaaaaaaaaMeeeeeeeeeee and I are here because our daughterrrrrrrrr has died from inhaling smoke at a
fi---eerrrrrrrrrrrrrr (fire)! We paid 259.00 dollars to bury her, but the bill is over two thousand (2,000) dollars and we need your help and love of God and any pennies or dimes that you can reach into your pocket to give us! We need your help. We have proof of her death with a death certificate that I carry and a picture of my daughter. If you do not like giving me the money, I also have the address of the Funeral Home so you can send the moneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee there!
We are coming to collect what you can give....come on Maaaaaaaaaa-miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!
And, as the voice boomed back and forth-hissing down my neck-EXCUSE MEEEEEE!!!!!EXCUSE MEEEEEEEEEE..closer and closer and finally....Maaaaaaaaa-mmmmmmmmmmmmiiiiiiiiiiiiiii you have to speak louder-they are deaf." (Totally inappropriate for a man who understands and screams about his suffering!)
As if, there was even an inch to move, to allow another scam to move on the woman beside him followed, head bent, I wondered whether he would post the information on a special website!! Was it real-or an Urban Legend?

Friday, December 19, 2003
Happy Holidays!
Where I start is at the middle earth. First of all-Sean P. who wrote a critically, scathing review in the Sun Sentinel about the Simon & Garfunkel concert has probably been watching too many very poor "IN" groups! Who is IN? Maybe INSYNC or Back Street Boys?What happened last nite at the Mega Florida Theater (which by the way looks like Madison Square Garden-air dropped into the marshes on the edge of the Everglades with hovering spaceship lighting) which may be named Office/Home Depot/National Car Rental/ Center/ Auditorium was history. Aren’t we tired of being homogenized by corporate America and its symbols for success? It's reallyjust putting the mainstreet/hometown stores out of business!
What we all heard were voices, lyrics processed, older, warmer, more meaningful. From decades past, hearts broken, split ups that were emotional-and still seem emotional-if not more full of understanding. Really, have you ever broken up with a significant other and the time passed and it would never be? As far as I am concerned they did a wonderful job, patching up any diffferences-and not always singing "TO" each other, but, MOSTLY singing all the time with each other. Melodies I clearly remember as many others did too. We saw two of the most proliphic writers, singers, vagabonds tell the truths about the world they saw for generations and turn it into song. (Bob Dylan, Crosby Stills, Nash & Young, Dion and...) There wasn’t a song that I did not know, as if it belonged to my own family. One sentence-most specially and with more meaning to me, “silence like a cancer grows”, for what did we even know about cancer in our generation. It happened to someone else-or a rare parent or relative would be stricken with the unknown-but there it is. Looking fit-curly haired Art, standing tall, introducing his Mom & a muscular and more intense Paul. They have come over miles of troubled and peaceful waters-and never stopped disseminating the truth. Slow to break out in the beginning of the concert-the Office Depot Etc. is not the best venue for these men, we were happily surprised by our other brothers, The Everly Brothers, Don & Phil. Me, who had always believed my brothers were Don and Phil. Well, also Ricky and David! (Am I losing anyone?)My brothers being 7 & 11 years older-this was my perspective as the younger sister. I embraced them. With Wake Up Little Susie, Dreamin' - they harmonized beautifully and skillfully with Simon & Garfunkel! It didn’t take much. A chord and melody and we were all thrust back and forward spinning in an intricate web of constant time and emotion. Thank you! Thank You! I am so happy that will all grew up and learned to share.
Read the review in the Sun Sentinenal by Sean Piccoli!! Simon & Garfunkel Sing Again This is just a story that I believe has to be told in a less predictable antiseptic tone-as in;does the ice maker in the refrigerator worK? or can we use the car without gas and try? The story I believe should grow up a bit and maybe think about the history that has passed and where have we been? By the way-where was he when Kennedy died? Because much of this tuning, harmonizing and bickering, takes a back stage to a very glorious creative career-and they are still here and we all did see them. So when Christine Aguillera acts sings pooorly and acts like a lap dancer and the videos smoke or she rips her panties or stockings, or Britney grinds on a bedpost or microphone or Madonna (the Maven) kisses the shrews to get her name in headlines, let’s remember what real music is. And, dear Russell Simmons, the philanthropist & mogul and his conspicuous spend thrift trophy wifey, the dedicated Kimora might want to support positive music, so that the rappers who get killed are not portrayed as heroes who have fallen. Sorry, I grew up on those streets and you have to respect someone-parents-caregivers,friends, teachers (or let there be anarchy/Clockwork Orange?). Be as creative as you want-lyrics aside-and grabbing crotches (very macho important) I think most of the lyrics are poor at best (fight the beat of your heart) are nasty, vicious and promote negativity-guns, killings, pain, including (but not limited to) "Black Eyed Pease au courant...for the new Girl Group /Shut Up, Shut Up!!! I hope they’re saying shut up to the masochistic, unintelligent machine that is brewing in the world of music! The Boroughs of New York! Come on Bronx-it was a good place to grow up-nothing wrong with it. Poor, ethnic and, we were fighters and street kids too. Not for turf-but for originality-for sparking on some new trend. No guns, piercings, tattooes around, in and under the cracks of your bod. Just something real to offer the world. Do you think that Ralph Lauren ever argued about a design on a tie with Calvin Klein? Even though they both grew up in the Bronx and went to Junior High School 80 on Mosholu Parkway. Now, really-it's the gangster persona and you better change it-or you fail-like we all did. No race, religion or color! Just basic acknowledgement and accountability of what was expected from you! And, if you don’t like it-and you create chaos and unrest-you better leave and let the little ones learn. Thank you to Spike Lee for understanding this and speaking out! Anyone can be negative-even Eminen has survived! And, with eyeglasses now! Break Out! You're young and very good! Does Russell Simmons and pretty Kimora Arm Candy getting into their limo and cruising to the Hamptons for the holiday with their beautiful people, really help anyone? Let's take back the world that existed before the lyrics of songs turned to hatred of men, women and children! Move to a more intimate, less posse protecting atmosphere for our glittery body. Accept, reject and love the adulation! Russell Simmons' answer to the editor of New York Magazine falls short of the real problem with rap-it’s not pretty-none of it is pretty-now does Russell consider his wife or the people he hangs out pretty? It's harmful, hurtful and destructive! No way around it-and it's the people that make up the street! The people have the city at their fingertips! It’s the same train ride away from my neighborhood, as it used to be. The city is there for you to enjoy and educate yourself in life, love, culture, and land! Stop posturing and hanging with only "your" gang/group/posse/people??? We're all so creative! We all have to grow!

Sunday, November 09, 2003
A fabulous contemporary art collection can be viewed at The Tehran Museum of Contemporay Art. Take a look at the ART COLLECTION and see some of the best from Picasso, Warhol, Kandinsky, Pollock, Chagall, Bacon, Miro and so many more! Wonderful!

Thursday, November 06, 2003
And for all the soldiers that die-we cry.
And, for all the Soldiers That Are Wounded we have to pray. Treat them with respect, give them the best care and ability to lead a full life. And, bring home the troops that fight for their life-and let the Iraq people die for their freedom.
Dalton Trumbo wrote a moving book about a World War Two wounded man-no ability to cry out to the outside world. Please read Johnny Got His Gun and continue to hope our troops come home safely. And somehow, somewhere, freedom is understood by terrorists, gangs, warlords, religious fanatics and the like. Take a bit of money and serve it up to those in desperate need and they will do anything for you. They did it for Hussein, Arafat, Bin Laden and Hitler-didn't they? What we have now in Iraq is anarchy! Ask Al Sharpton with his sharp tongue what the South Bronx was like in the 70s! We've come a long way!

Sunday, November 02, 2003
Another Fallujah Tragedy and nothing seems to stop it. I have had bad feelings about this area for some time. And, now this trajedy only makes me feel worse. There is no cooperation in Fallujah and probably won't be-becasue the younger people are funded by an underground network. This isn't too hard to see. Bad economy-underworld funds-war lords, gangs and fabatics! It's anarchy. Unless we are able to sweep through the homes and secure areas-nothing will be safe. If one of the problmes is, that the American men are "looking" at the Muslim women in their homes, than let them leave their homes for a secure area and let these areas be searched. We have been criticized for not respecting their rights, well, as far as I can understand-what rights were there aunder Hussein? The Muslim men don't want the women to have rights-it's a religious control issue-something an American has diffoiculty underastnading-especially women. We do have choices! These women do not have choices-cvan not leave houses unescorted and can not be seen by other men-only the family. Fine, guarantee them their right to stay covered, at a school, a police station, a mosque. Than find out as much as you can about the areas that house terrorists-who continue to be funded by others-who want control. Or, we leave and let them brutalize each other into submission. And, we go back when Hussein or his funded men surface. Any other ideas? Why shoudl our men die for people whoi are going to commit crimes, to get a butcher back in power? Any person who would torture and assassinate the way Hussein did-doesn't deserve to control anything.

Saturday, October 25, 2003
A great reference for the works of Edgar Allan Poe. And, just in time for Halloween or anytime. One of my favorites!

Please check out SUTIQUE for the best collection of vintage bras. There are Goddess, Warners, Peter Pan, Vanity Fair, Corde De Parie and many more. Many are still in the original boxes. The choices are endless and the styles are wonderful. There are longline, circle stitch and bullet bras. Great for the vintage lingerie collector. Having a bra or a few bras like these is very special! Great prices! Look now and email me at!
Also, take a look at Swinging Chicks of the 60s and more.... You can see Brigette Bardot, Ursula Andres, Goldie Hawn, Ann Margaret, Britt Ekland, Petula Clark, Faye Dunaway (love Bonnie and Clyde) and so many more! It's a fun site with lots of information about all of these great female actresses and celebrities!
Rent the DVD of BonFire of the Vanities to see Kim Catrall of Sex in the City as the uptight X-Ray woman of Park Avenue, playing Tom Hanks wife and Melanie Griffith as Hanks girlfriend. This movie is full of celebrities-and Bruce Willis is shining!
Great for Halloween! You must see the best video/dvd from 1969 with subtitles, three short films: Spirits of the Dead. Jane Fonda in her rare Barbarella form has a love interest and it's Peter Fonda, Brigette Bardot is in one and also Terrance Stamp. Subtitles and very eerie/surreal and by Edgar Allen Poe and Fellini mixed in! You will really like this and it can be picked up at any library!
So, please check out SUTIQUE and scroll down to view some gorgeous vintage lingerie!


You must take a look at SUTIQUE. It's my website. I sell the best vintage, new and never worn bras and other vintage clothing. Starting with my bra collection-which is vast! The best Goddess Bra, Peter Pan, Corde De Parie, Vanity Fair, Warners and more. These are all original-from the 1950s and 1960s. There are the best pictures on theses boxes. Some street scenes of Paris, some very Cleopatra stylish women-ala Elizabeth Taylor and some with the funkiest 60s flowers and designs. You must see these bras!
Remembering what it was like to go into a corset shop and be greetedby older ladies who would help FIT yu int your nw bra. There were the starter bras with small cups for the blooming young girls and larger cups for older women. You never picked your own bra-but waited graciously in a fitting room as somene helped you! These bras are from that type of store. The women got much older and sold the contents of the shop. It's now mine, to share with you!

Friday, October 17, 2003
Hidden Myth
What would be-was never foreseen. Time was forever changing the landscape of the mind. Of course, in the world of DePukly, nothing was what it appeared. Now it was even more amazing. Sopora sat in wonderment and knew that it was once again her time to wait.
Time had made the Coronians look to DePukly for guidance. And, Chegly Begbelly, the swollen rot of humanity would take utter pride in amassing the splendor of the groveling herd. The Wormealions would bathe each sore as it appeared and put lotions of rat heart on the sores. Nothing would help her, but the Woormealions were have slaves, her children. Now, she would be able to look at the Coronians, deep into their being, gloating as her bloated facial tics spread across the face clustered with boils. Heaving her breasts with pride, she had finally reached deep into the caverns of the innerspace of the offspring of DePukly. What power she held and what myths she could play upon them. To look to the fabled beastly utters of Chegly was a massive contradiction of the beauty and truth of life. Begbelly had been known to all as a shrew. It was simple understood, that she alone could never be trusted. And, DePukly adored this, in his sinister fashion. The meeting of DePukly, a pathological plot to meet the sociopath of her dreams. One who would carry out her crimes and gloat with each move. The Wormealions would do Chegly Begbelly's daily chores as they impregnated themselves into the golden world of the Lord DePukly. They would be at his calling.
The myth of the hidden gold and wealth seemed to provoke the wildest of dreams. And, in such a way, that the young ones searched for the meaning of life amidst the swell of the toys of the Lord DePukly.
Sopora knew that all she had instilled was hidden beneath layers of flesh and blood.
It would take time for them to understand family from gold and what life and living meant in a humble way. They had taken many small steps and more would come. She would sit studying the books of legends of the land of the lakes and talk to the elders. They would guide her through the craters of her mind. Their mountains and streams would become her fulfillment. Until another time, they would share very little and thus, Sopora would grow. Hoping the Coronians would grow as well, she knew life would continue on. It always does.
Moments creeping.
To Oblivion.

Thursday, October 16, 2003
The Robarians, Sweet Alysa

Alysa and Acinsa had been together for a lifetime. Close sisters. You would not have asked for women better than these. Their parents were glowing. Only goodness was felt from this family, from the beginning of time. There was warmth, understanding and truth. They lived to love their children, their grandchildren and the world around them. And, they vowed to do all they could to save their familyfrom Lord DePukly.
DePukly had a brother during his early years. Though all loved Lord Roba, DePukly shunned him. First gathering him into his arms and then rejecting him. DePukly’s goal at this point of their time on earth was to control the gold and power that DePukly’s family name held. He would do anything to gain power over his brother and his family. The brother, Lord Roba was the one who could not quite meet the demands of the family. Or, he had met the demands, but there was always more wanted and desired. It was never enough. Lord Roba of Fet Flawber was a good man with a caring heart. Years of too much gold had turned Lord Roba into someone he was not. The gold had changed him and given him a surreal power that he could not control. At times he became the beast, lost, rolling, craving, healing-not knowing which way to flip his body. I cry for you Lord Roba because your goodness was real-it coursed through your veins. There were no hidden agendas. But, money brings so many freedoms. Freedoms are freedoms from what? Pressure, behavior, participation in the world? Love and caring?
It became a secret and only few could talk about it-or, were allowed to talk of it. Everything in the Fet Flawber family archives has been hidden in notes, thoughts and pictures of the charming family-all a sham. Only the supreme women of the family know the truth and the history. Few can tell it. Alysa and Sopora, though separated by the ages, know. And, the father, Lord Coro, knew. Though too many years have passed and he is at a place-an uneasy rest.
Alysa waits to piece the puzzle together. Yes, she has marched on, not quite understanding and hunted by DePukly. So many have told her that DePukly only hates. Scorn and venom seethe from him and pain oozes from his body. There is no reason “why?” he should hunt or hurt, it is just who he is.
Roba’s children, the Robarian’s knew this too. And, the Coronias, truly know. So entwined in the myth of family, they all stood on the edge of the land of Lord DePukly Fet Flawber. Never to be part-only a parcel, like an orb. Polished to a shining glint and then returned, dirty and ravaged. So many trying hard to break from the will of DePukly. But, as with many, they were trapped. They stood strong and tall with their family and tried their hardest to make life exist in a peaceful way. None should have to grovel at the bulging feet and stench of Chegly Begbelly or DePukly, but so many were made to behave in this manner. It bruised your spirit and mind. To the powers willing and to God, the day would come when none would have to deal with the hateful DePukly.
Sopora tried as she could, the few times that she was able to converse with Alysa, that the Lord DePukly was a despicable human. If human at all. The best was not to deal with Depukly or he would harm you and ban you from any hope of understanding, For, try as you might, there was no way to understand. What IS, IS.
He would think of ways, games, to hurt your heart, betray your life; spill his venom that was the only way. It brought him misery, and misery was his humor. It was all a cruel game and nothing more. Begbelly had learned this and tricked and deceived her way into the being of DePukly. As, the woman who would say, I am your savior, Begbelly would crawl with repugnancy to pretend that she was the mother of earth. Trick all to think that she was the goodness of an everlasting womanly spirit. Lies all. While in truth she was the rot of a dead animal that she had just killed to satisfy her gaming.
It was a cruel game and what was more cruel, was a knowing WHY he didn’t like you-but the simple answer was. He didn’t like himself or others. Misery had crept into open wounds and lay dormant-feeding bitter signs of diseased flesh. To hope for enlightenment from a being like this was non-existent.
The girls of Alysa were beautiful, blossoming. Their Mother took the best care. The father may have left as the husband, but why leave as the father to the children? It was his love of particpating that had faded. The young women look out of their window each night. There was no explanation. There was no reason to dismiss them. They lived within their circle of life-and that must stay pure. And, so it did.
Only the perfect Begbellions, born of Begbelly, with their greedy hands would not be tossed aside. They were the ones with goodness, we all must be reminded of this. With the chant of the bulbous Chegly Begbelly, the lies prevailed. She had become the Grand Dame. And, true as ever, she repeated the lies that spilled from her blackened teeth and breath of worm. She was the purest and thus her children were perfect. In her image, all was true. DePukly craved this depravity. This was his calling and he had met the one who lied as much as the liar. All hail the grand liar, distorted with hate and painful sores, Chegly Begbelly.
The Robarians, were the ones who received the pain strewn about from her massive body and shriveled organs. She gave nothing good. She turned all truth into her truth-lies. And, reminded all, that what she said was the way the earth should live. Oh, how the people of Fet Flawber yearned for the day when Begbelly the pig of the castle would finally get all that she wanted and drown in the pulp of rot.
And, along with her, the Begbellions, crawling on their bellies would slither into the mud hole of her divinity.
For Begeblly, the key was that she was the stranger to DePukly. He could be whoever he wanted to be. Nothing had gone before and nothing existed now, but hate. He could buy and pretend to be something that he was not. She could be the scavenger of the earth and rise to new levels of possession and status. But, like a ghost of changing images in a mirror, no one would know who he truly was. And, soon, no one would care.
For, the outsider would end up in despair in her mucous and she would turn life into a river of puss.
Where are the slugs?

Sunday, October 12, 2003
Very Girlie, Girlie! True Vintage! And, I sure do hope you like my Vintage Clothing BLOG! It's my original website!
Sutique. When you have time, take a look! I have always been interested in past lives and things that tell a story, about another time. It gives us a personality and history. It links us with other lives! So, maybe you'll get to know about me a bit more! Featuring New Old Stock, Never WORN (NOS) Vintage Lingerie, from a Corset and Lingerie Shop! A wonderful selction of vintage brands of lingerie, such as the GODDESS BRA, Wonder Bra, Breathin' Bra, Corde De Parie, Warner's and more!

Wednesday, October 08, 2003
The Goddess was created some time ago, by Sopora. She evolves daily and is embellished with stones and beads, silk and lace, parts of the earth and the heart. She embodies the woman of your inner being. She is femininity. She is the Circle of Life, The Long Life. Given to friends and family, she brings peace and joy.

The Goddess

The Goddess
Lavenderia and Milva would like you to hold "The Goddess," by Sopora in your hand.

Page Six, Cindy Adams. I do love her!
SPEAKING of politics, a pal greeted New York state's chief exec George Pataki affectionately with: "You look familiar." Said our great Gov: "I used to be mayor of Peekskill, and it's been downhill ever since."
Sweet, quiet Peekskill. I long for you!
Lake Oscawana
Just for a moment in time!

Sopora's Goddess
Standing silent now
The Goddess sips her sweet tea
Quiet soft smiles appear

Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Sopora’s “The Goddess”
Visit Sopora's Goddess
to take a look at “The Goddess” doll, waiting for you!
Sopora was very aware that time spent with the sisters, Lavenderia and Milva presented her with rich and interesting thoughts. The ways of their land and the fact that they were the keeper of "The Long Life" was very important to Sopora. She believed in the Circle of Life, of women being strong and important, caring and loving. “The Goddess” at Sopora's Goddess can be seen with her small, sensitive face and made larger with a click of your wand. Approximately seven inches tall. All handmade. Pretty twine will be enclosed to help you display her.
She is a small wishing and sharing doll, which Sopora has created and presentes, to her friends. They are kept in their homes for constant companionship. As you brew your mystical, herbal tea and sip it alone or with friends, “The Goddess” at Sopora's Goddess awaits for you!
She can rest or hang on a wall nearby. Designed with a Hopi Indian influence and thoughts of a womanly, divine God, they are created with memories of the KIVA, the meeting places. “The Goddess” at Sopora's Goddess will be resting here. Take a peek! She is in EKIVA, our meeting place. The Kiva built below the ground, iis in our village, for our special sharing.
Please read below if you are interested in obtaining this grand, handmade treasured doll for yourself or a friend. These are completely handmade from natural earthly sands and shells, wood, and minerals and found objects. She is mystical. No two will be alike. This will be for you and you alone. Please email with your wishes and take a look at the picture of the GODDESS at Sopora's Goddess and order now, so you can see one for yourself.
Order through Sopora's Goddess and you'll be able to pay through Your wishes will be answered.
Any questions, please ask Sopora, all one of a kind, special creations.
Thank you,
Just view "The Goddess" at Sopora's Goddess and order now!
All emails at will be answered!

Monday, October 06, 2003
Lavenderia & Milva’s Goodness

As Lavenderia & Milva traveled the land they would spread good humor and sweetness to all. Anyone who tried to follow their tracks would have a cloud of dust kicked up in the winds that followed them. Billowing, the clouds would conceal all. Begbelly hated that she could not control the old ladies. No grace for Begbelly, as she hunched over crawling with venom as Lavenderia and Milva would pass by-and never would she see them. Tossed aside in a cloud of smoke-she’d fall to the ground in the muck, her pores covered with fat; she would roll screeching obscenities for all to hear. She dragged her shroud close to her body, oozing a spectacle of disbelief to all around her. Her sores leeched and her tongue grew foul with odor as she continued to react and act like vermin. She picked her body up and crawled up the carriage into the inner sanctums of her coach and shrieked at the driver to move on. To the castle she would plunder seeking the relief of her tower. Better to be in her guarded castle, preparing herself with schemes to find and hunt down Lavenderia and Milva.
Years ago, Lavenderia and Milva’s family had found the land that they now lived on. The forests and mountains separated them from Lord Fet Flawber DePukly and the hideous Begbelly. The groves and forests presented some with a place to escape. You had to be strong to get to the old land. You had to forage and twist and find the path to peace. It was a sanctuary far away and the path was not always clear. Only some knew of the existence. It was an important place, where peace and harmony existed, under the guidance of the mystical sisters. They were the keepers of "The Long Life." As Begbelly hauled along the road, the whisper of Lavenderia drifted and Milva glanced over her shoulder as Lavenderia concentrated with all her will. It was only to spread joy and deliver the gifts quietly that the sisters would leave their house.
Sitting on their back porch, Lavenderia would heave a sigh as Sopora combed her long gray curls. The sisters would talk of days gone by and travels across the land. Sopora found this time to be heavenly. She was so at peace when she was called upon to help them pretty themselves. Combing their hair, under the blue skies, hearing the water and the wind was a place that delivered peace of mystical powers. Entering the house from the porch door-Sopora would cross the large living area and gather the plates filled with food. She would bring this out to the sisters and share a meal, drinking tea from the plants of the land and fresh baked bread of grain and nuts.
As that sat together Milva would talk of the cards that Lavenderia loved to display. Powers that some had would be revealed and future choices could be discussed. Like the old papers that stood in a stack near the fireside-the cards would be read and read again. Some cards showed the good and evil, some the path that one might take. Never knowing what your cards may be was the excitement of the moment. Milva’s lips pursed tightly, she would read your heart and mind. Soft skin, with pale wisps of hair framed her face and she would dazzle from within. She would grab your hand and guide you from room to room, in and out of the house and towards the gardens. The boat would be resting at the shore of the lake, down the winding path. The sisters would climb in and with powerful sweeps; Sopora would row the sisters around the blue lake. Lily pads were blossoming, frogs would be hopping and turtles would rest in the sun. Whether cool or warm, the lake was at a peaceful coexistence with the sisters and nature. The lake became the center of the universe and they glided past the rocky outposts of craters heaved to the surface. Calmness, of small waves broke against the boat as it rocked on its journey. The sun shining, the three would be thrust into conversation of the day. What could they do to bring good back to the land of Fet Flawber and the other Feudal Lords? How could they help the children? How could they stop the polluting of the air? How could they thrust the powers of evil from the castles of belching smoke and oozing flesh? They had to spread goodness. This was their way. Love spread throughout would bring peace to the land. They talked and they talked as the sun lowered. They had fished for many hours and spent much time talking.
As the sun faded and they drifted back to the house, Milva would read Lavenderia’s mind. They would pass the power of the cards to Sopora and she would be taught how to use them. Sopora listened intently for this was a power that she would hold dear to her heart. The power of the cards would bring about change. Slowly and with each visit, Milva and Lavenderia would teach Sopora the strength of the within. Calming forces and focus would be taught. The tumultuous world of Sopora would eventually be as calm as the two ladies.
Pulling the large blue rowboat to the shore, Sopora would help Milva and Lavenderia out of the large wooden boat. She heaved it to one side with blossoming strength. This was the boat she had loved from her childhood. When they had the chance they would all bring their fishing poles to the lake and catch their dinner, as they did today, frying up the pan fresh fish in a heady essence of aroma. Lingering through the air with freshness the tasty flesh of the large bass would crumble in a milky whiteness. Slowly roasting the vegetables over the fire, Sopora was brought back to times past. This treat was always splendid. She looked forward to this time with Lavenderia and her sister Milva. So close were the two, that they were as if one.
Carrying the jug out to the well, Sopora drew deep breaths from the fresh air as she pumped the water from the deep well. She knew night would fall quietly and quickly. She would be spending some time with the sisters and wanted to settle in.
Her bundle of garments and herbs would be opened and shared with her friends. They would each take turns talking and laying the cards out. Some times Lavenderia would pick up her sewing and watch as Milva spread the cards. She would sew contentedly. Night drew closer and the women would ready themselves for bed. Each settling in with their candles and cool water mixed with herbs, they would drift softly into sleep. Large piles of soft blankets would be shared and feather pillows would fluff softly. A climate of dreams and thoughts reaching deep within.

Saturday, October 04, 2003
Sopora’s Visit
Lavenderia was a special woman. She lived far out of town on a bumpy hillside in a small white clapboard house with a tarpaper roof. Smoke poured through her chimney as she stoked the fire with a long wooden stick. Her porch overlooked the prettiest of lakes. It was a special porch, made of wormwood mottled wood, from their land. Worms carving endless paths through the tree bark. Smooth. Sitting just hidden in the mountains, you could see the blue waters of the lake through the trees that forested the land. The house sat on a rocky ledge and you would navigate the cliff, climbing downward to her old wooden door. You would only see the top of the roof as you hustled your body towards the house seeking the warmth that wait within.
Stepping from her wagon, Sopora beckoned to her past. This was the first place, from another life, so long ago where she had spent so many wonderful years and happy moments. She glanced around at the grouping of houses in the distance and felt peace and warmth-fall over her. As her eyes followed each turn, she stepped down the rocky hillside path. She smelled the freshness of the lavender, mint and hydrangea surrounding her. Her cloak of dark velvet billowed about her. A gift from the sisters so many years ago. It surrounded her with peace and calmness. How pleasant and warm she would feel, once inside-once sharing a drink and meal with the sisters.

Lavenderia had lived here for many years, now entering her second century; she was still young and her mind sharp. Sopora crossed the threshold holding tightly onto Lavenderia. The bundle tossed across her shoulder was held askew as she threw her arms about her. Lavenderia’s web of warmth and wisdom surrounded her.
The house was tidy and swept, smelling delightfully special of warm cookies or bread baking and soup tumbling to a slow boil on the wood stove. Peopled with small objects, this home held many delightful memories and mementos of lives past, present and future. Holding an object and letting it sit in the palm of your hand brought many feelings to ones being. As if transported to the worlds of Lavenderia, through a stick, a rock, a shell, a small figurine, whatever it was, your eyes and mind would glow. Small pieces of wood could be smooth or gnarled, shells were broken or whole depending on what lake or ocean had been visitied.
Smooth lines folded sweetly on her face and her lips were moist with dew and fresh tea. Though much older and with great wisdom, she appealed to all, both old and young. She was a rare treasure that sat humbly in her home, inviting in her visitors with complete grace. Sopora loved to visit Lavenderia and Milva, her sister. Their hair white with curls sat close to their heads. Hands neat, and clothing pressed, always ready for a friend to stop by. The two were very close and traveled everywhere together and now, at this point lived closely as two sisters would, in their house, in a far away land. So many sought her out-to read the deepest of their thoughts and share her visions. From her delicate hands, her cards would be brought out and a cloth would be draped across the wormwood table that sat before her. She would take her hand written cards from their cloth and spread them out. Pretty pictures adorned one side and wisdom and dreams adorned the other. There was always something to think about when Lavenderia spread her cards. Milva sat by, adding a thought or tow as if, one paused and another jumped in. It was a smooth translation of life that had bee and life to be.
Lavenderia was also fond of sewing. A huge wicker basket that she had woven years ago, sat on the floor next to her chair, scraps of fabric sat nearby. She loved to sew "wishing toys" soft and small that she kept nestled in a box nearby her chair and the fire. They all had meaning and were shared with friends and family. But, most of all, Lavenderia and Milva loved to scoop up the toys as they were finished and had toiled closely in the box, and bring them to the villages far away. There, they old give them to the village elder, to be shared with the children that had to work the lands of the Feudal Lords, the blood letters of the world. The poor children had to work on the land of Fet Flawber and these small toys were some of the things, which were given to them for their happiness. Lavenderia loved to make these visits. She came in the dark of night at the latest of hours and delivered her presents. Villagers let her carriage pass. With wisdom and grace she was able to navigate the village streets and leave her packages of toys as Milva guided their horses and their caretaker drove alongside. True, it has been said, that some mystical powers surrounded their wagon and that they were almost invisible as they whirled through eh streets and a lanes. They knew that these gifts would be safe with the elders. And, if not given to the children immediately they would stay close by-for the days ahead.
DePukly did not believe in toys that brought warmth or kindness. This would touch a heart and touching a heart was unheard of-because DePukly had no heart. Just cruelty and cold gold. What he saw as a toy was truly not. Composed of mortar or steel, with pulsating machinery that spewed through the air or heaved from the ground was the only “toy” DePukly could know. He saw his toys ass being money, which transferred into gold, in order to by the hearts of others, but never to give of himself. The sadness that some felt-was soothed by the contraptions of things. His wagons, coaches, castles and belongings were his objects of life. They brought no joy-just satisfaction of possession and so it was, that objects would be passed to others that longed for real love. The Coronians had been taught to live and love, to view the mountains and the lakes, but as age increased the toys of the older ones were the things that they groped for-that but for nothing else. All this led to more polluted misery, whether in heart or in mind. It left many to be shriveled humans, as Depukly and the fitful Begbelly tossed about. Begbelly luxuriated in the knowledge of this. For she knew she had caused much of this pointless growth of uselessness and glowered in its vapidity. It was her power to have these possessions and yet, it was air. Oh, how she longed to make others wither, but she withered each moment and crevices creased her gnarly face.
Lavenderia understood much of this and spoke clearly about the wants and needs of all. She kept her distance from Begbelly and DePukly, though they wanted to win her-she never took a thing from them-as a gift or a purchase. She possesses a greater power that they would never have. She knew Begbelly was a shrew that would bargain with her for trinkets so that she would own Lavenderia’s things, but those things would never be near Begbelly and she craved them. The more she wanted them-the more distant Lavenderia would be. And, Begbelly would lay awake and toss her large body in hopes of finding the crack to enter into Lavenderia’s land, but none was seen, and Begbelly pained. Pain was what she wanted to cause and thus she would think of clever plots, more clever than ever-and so be it-for clever was to be never!

Friday, September 26, 2003
This is most important and it could happen to you! I have always been told to wear slippers, or flip-flops, and have even heard of sleeping in your own private sleeping bag/body bag. All snuggled in your own sheets. Besides stains, watch what could be hidden in the carpet-and hurt you! Pins, needles, clips, razors...
Everyone isn't neat! First lesson: Believe everyone is a slob and no room is ever cleaned the way you would clean your own private surroundings. Housekeeping just checks the mini-bar-to see what you took. A quick sweepover-and hopefully bedding will be changed.
So take a look!

Hotel Hygiene
Investigation Uncovers Hidden Stains in Hotel Rooms
WABC News Special Investigation

Sept. 26— Hotels can be a place to unwind. They're like our home away from home. And whether we go there for romance, relaxation or business, there are certain things we come to expect when we check in — the most important of which is cleanliness.

But with thousands of people having possibly slept in the same bed before you, how do you know what's really under those covers?

Primetime decided to find out. Equipped with test tubes, special ultraviolet lights and rubber gloves, our producers swabbed their way through 20 well-known and respected hotels in four different cities around the country.

The results of what we uncovered are shocking, but — thankfully — do not pose any hazard to guests' health.

Behind Closed Doors

With the help of the UV light, we were able to see things not visible to the naked eye, viewing possible urine and semen stains, which were then swabbed and sent to a certified lab for analysis.

Hotel guests may be surprised at what we found. Urine or semen stains were confirmed in every room we examined — including on the bedspreads, the blankets, the walls, carpet, a desk top, a table and on upholstered chairs. One astounding discovery was in a hotel in Los Angeles, where we found a urine stain on the Bible.

"There's a lot going on behind those closed doors. But the reality is that the hotels are not going to be wiping down the walls and those surfaces," said Dr. Mark Callahan, a public health expert from NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital who evaluated our findings. (In fact, hotels do wipe down walls and surfaces, managers told Primetime, in the periodic thorough cleanings that are standard in the industry.)

Although the results may be unpleasant and disturbing, Callahan said they are not dangerous.

"It's not harmful because those are dried and sterile," he said, "They're not going to have viruses or bacteria growing in them."

Stains Everywhere

At a four-star resort in Miami our lights revealed urine not only on the walls, but on the bedspread, a chair, a bathroom vanity stool and on the carpet by the bed.

At another property in Miami we found urine on the shower wall as well as several semen stains on the blanket.

In fact, we found urine or semen in every room we sampled regardless of price — from a one-star property where rooms go for $55 a night to a $400-a-night room at a five-star hotel.

Fighting to Keep Clean

Primetime also tested bathroom fixtures, television remote controls, telephones and doorknobs for the presence of bacteria. What we found showed that the levels on most surfaces were quite low and not harmful.

And the findings support what many managers told Primetime: that sanitation is a top priority.

Hotel managers Primetime spoke to said rooms are dusted, vacuumed and disinfected at least once daily — and sometimes twice.

They said that deep cleaning of some items and surfaces is done less frequently — on average every four months, unless stains are clearly visible.

And, after seeing the stains that were uncovered by the UV light, the managers at some of the hotels Primetime visited said they were considering training housekeepers to start using black lights to spot those hidden stains.

But whatever hotels do to make sure their rooms are clean, some guests believe you can never be too careful.

New Yorker Michele Vilanni always cleans her hotel room when traveling with her 3-year-old daughter. Packing a bottle of disinfectant and bleach wipes, she carefully cleans the bathroom and sprays the bed sheets to make sure they are clean — whether she needs to or not.

"I don't think it's overboard because I would rather make sure my family is OK," she told Primetime.

Thursday, September 25, 2003
The Lady in the Box
Queen Labette was a lady who thought she lived in a box. She did not understand much about her surroundings anymore. Lanterns that lined the halls were kept burning for light, but were often dimmed or snuffed out. Sometimes you were convinced that she did live in a box. But, this was only in her thoughts and not in her being. Strange, was this lady. Illness had ravaged part of her brain and eccentricity had taken over the other half. Regaled as one of the highest of elders and Queen at that, she had so much, and yet, thought she had so little. You had to be patient with the elders. They had the wisdom to dispense miracles, true or false even to themselves.
It might have been that way in ancient times, when the first people had roamed the earth. They were the cliff dwellers and the others that lived in small rooms piled on top of each other. The castles and manses built in a fashion of the times were simply based on past archaeological findings. Architects would follow through with a design, but build it even bigger and better. The Queens, Kings, Lords and Ladies of the land were familiar with this style of living. The town’s people lived in small homes, usually a room or two and shared all their daily events together. It seemed to be a healthy way. No exclusion or loneliness, much togetherness and little privacy. Loneliness was a feature one had-when they lived in Castles, far apart from others.
Queen Labette was so frail that that many had to serve her. There was a self-serving mockery that ran deep within and she knew that her servants would take care of her-because her gold was piled high. But, there was also a streak of nonsense that ran deep within her. Curvy, curly, bumps and winding trails were all part of the road that impeded her everyday events.
The biggest impediment was the fact that Queen Labette thought she lived in a box. No outer parts to her life-but a small room with a bed and a place for her clothes. Somehow, some way she thought this was the definition of her world. Those that cared for her had to look after the whole castle, but in the dark-this was her very being. She would be bathed in a small room and food would be brought in and scarps out. Unless, of course, she hid them. Scraping food from plates she would hide it near her bed. Clothes would be tucked under her thin mattress and windows covered with paper. Munching and chomping along at anything that she could find, bones would stick between her teeth and food would hang out. All this cleaned by her helpers.
Her helpers were at her beck and call. Though she thought she was nice to them-she was hurtful, demanding and demeaning. Making them do every little task over and over again. Her power was one that she approved of, especially the power and control over others. There were times, in her sarcastic mood that she would pretend to thank one of the helpers, only to shoot back a harmful thought. Of course she felt she was being quick witted (no witted-at best) and creative, but as we know, she was not. It was cruel and mean.
Creativity was seen as a way to praise someone-but also remind them that they were not powerful or strong, anymore. Her poetry, though written with great feeling-was always double with its meaning.

“I remember you when you were strong; only to be hit by a cart and horse.
You tried so hard to recuperate, balancing on your crutches.
No one would come near for fear they would fall near your thatched hut”

Weren’t these poems of deep, despicable cruelty?

She waited longer and longer to see the people she knew. She hoped dearly she would wither from sight. In this way, she would owe no one anything and could do as she pleased, but some knew that she was still viable. She was humored or tolerated. No other way to bear her foolishness. So keep her in her little world and she would be just fine. No one would say they knew-because the withered lady was so frail. Her feeling might be hurt, but there were no feelings.
Her son was not a sociable one-with a life so dull, filled with work and no play. He never knew what to do or not to do. Hiding and living far from his home, he stayed to himself most of the week, eating bits and scraps, thinking himself poor. His wife, Princess Lessee lived in their Castle, in a land hours away. He would travel to this land, to lay his head on a mat in the basement, so he could do his chores for Princess Lessee and Queen Labette. A visit was a tortured event. No touching of the flesh, but feeble words passed as if spoken by a devil to a wart. Taunting, demanding and critical. This was the ritual, week after week.
Most knew in the village what was happening and crowded in the corners whispering and gossiping about the haphazardness of the relationships. Most laughed and sneered, remarks being brought on more and more by the neediness of the duo and the reputation. As they drove by, in their Coach, they would hiss and insist others be pushed off the road. They would argue and bicker throughout the town. And, the town laughed, in silence.
Queen Labette saw them at her door as they finally entered; dragging across the room came her son, hunched and ragged as his spouse flitted in. Chattering away, making the weak conversation of those pressed for thought, she continued jabbering. What was Queen Labette to do when she saw the hunched son and the Princess, her daughter-in-law? What frail attempt could she make to confuse the situation? But, there need not be any help from Queen Labette; because her son would sabotage any reality-and this was just fine with his Mother. As long as her son remained unhappy, Princess Lessee would remain unhappy too. And, this gave Queen Labette much satisfaction.

Thursday, September 18, 2003
Flesh, Boils and Spots, Truth or Dream
Slithering in and out of his hole, DePukly gleaned what he could from his meager surroundings. No heart beat in his withered chest. Only slime poured forth from small holes of rot. He was a decrepit man who had managed to get power through words and money. Words were his to use as spears, to pierce your heart and mind. He would send scrawl and venom via horse or mule. He would beat his poor animals with a stick in order to hurry them along on their journey.
But, he would always lock the gates to his life when someone needed to deliver something to him. He would not be bothered. And, neither would Begbelly. Doors would be locked, alarms and guards in place. Nothing was to enter and touch the premises. They alone were the misery of their fate. Their manse was closed, unless entertaining people he hoped to steal from and lie to, money being the key element. Whoever entered his world without permission would be beheaded by sword. Or, words would fall upon them as they were ushered to dungeons, which he considered too good for any, even those he knew. Scraping the floor and walls as they were dragged to their special place, they would be provided with rules and a guard, a watchful eye would know their every move.
For the Coronians this was a difficult idea. Freedom to live was part of their soul. They grew with a love of the outdoors, ideas and creativity. Here they were treated as outsiders as the Wormealions had taken up a suitable residence and were treated, as Begbelly wanted them to be-in a rather costly manner, but her way. There was nothing that DePukly would not provide them. Parties, fantasies, vacations, clothes, all that Begbelly knew that her loathsome offspring must have, for she was Obnoxia Chegly Begbelly and she wanted all to look up to her, to them. She was a snake, always planning what she could get with her wiles. Master of her twisted, ugly body, concealing the bulbous flesh was her path to adoration. As she slid between the covers of her large bed, body hanging about, DePukly would beg some attention and she, would use her ways to show that she cared-when all she did was prostitute herself in order to gain, riches and control. She would push him on the floor and he would crawl to his chamber, when all was done. Begbelly would flail about eating candies and chocolate with piles of ice cream, dripping on the covers! Oh, the weak and dumb Depukly. He got what he deserved, when he met his heavenly body.
As they would say to Sopora as she arrived with messages at strange places. “They are made for each other, they are cruel and inhumane.” Sopora understood that the brain in DePukly had grown mean with maggots and bugs, until it had entered his entire body and driven all life out of him. He was but a shell, a host to the disease of gold and stupidity. And, as Sopora vanished around a corner into the barn near her home, she empowered herself with her secret words and knew, all was well. The Coronians would be strong and she blessed them in their spirits. From one loving body to the next. And, so, they would be. DePukly would deal with the ghosts that he hid, deep within and try to deny-but they were all there and Sopora knew the truth and had the truth in her box, hidden in the barn. She w would use it when she needed to-to exert her power and set the world free. The time would come, maybe not right now, but soon.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Machers, a Jewsih Dating Service. Just one place to look for companionship and love!
JDATE, just one of the places that has been widely publicized, as a resource for meeting a man or a woman. dating, advertising, personal ads, not easy! It always helps to advertise. I only knew one perosn, who met someone who "fell through her roof"and he was a landscaper! No one knocks on your door, so get busy!
And, remember, always meet in a public place, of your choice. Meet, talk and leave safely. After that, it's just a matter of time and luck!

Sopora, the name of a woman.
Searching for Sopora A site devoted, in part to the history of this persons family. It was Celia and Harry who met through a personal advertisement in the newspaper.
Sopora, was also one of the relatives.
"Another story of my family tree is that around 1880 there was a supposedly wealthy landowner, who lived in Romania, with a Surname of Rosenthal (Might have been a different spelling) who had a son named Sam. Sam Rosenthal married Sopora (Sylvia) (last name unknown) This affulent family arrived in the USA around 1900. I believe they had 11 children, one was Ester Rosenthal, who eventually married Ben Perlitz."
There is also a connection with Alan Gallinson, the accountant of Boston, and another family member wgo was a photographer in Yonkers, New York. A path may twist and turn, but all the roads meet!

For those that worry and care, have no fear. I have wings!

Sweet Sidalee
As she glanced around Sopora would watch the movement of her beloved dog, Sidalee. DePukly had forbidden Sopora to have a dog and thus, when able, the Coronians brought one into her home. The Coronians, Justar and Ricar had left and gone on their journey-but, she was entrusted with the ever broad and warm Sidalee. Never had she been at such peace as when she and Sidalee were with at home. He was her dog and protected her with great intent. He was large, black and fierce looking. His head was so big it barely fit in her lap. A Rottweiller from another land had come to her when she needed him the most.
She adored her pet as she had adored her children. He was a passage to serenity. And, she gave love, willingly.
DePukly had done whatever he could to forbid Sopora to ever have an animal. An animal was something that he could not relate to. It was the caring, true caring of another life and this did not fit into the light and breezy lifestyle of DePukly and the Chegly Begbelly. They had much to do. So many people to entertain and be social with, that it proved to be interference in their being. When they had first entwined in holy hell, they had purchased many pets-and kept them caged and away-to be stroked and ignored at their very whim. Soon they would discard their animals. They knew little about the feelings of dogs, cats or birds, so as these precious pets were whisked out the door they always knew that life would be better without DePukly and Begbelly. There was no need to communicate anything with DePukly because he never listened to people, so why listen to animals.
And, dear Chegly was so taken with herself and her grooming aids that time was hers and hers alone. As she primped for another moment in her disastrously, hideous day.
Staring over the hills of her window, on that bleak October day-she saw the withered vine and the crumpled plants and to her this was how it should be. Great brightness and light-took away from the intent of focusing on her. She wanted the world to look upon her hennaed countenance and finely draped clothes as she made her way from village to village. But, her days were always ruined as her lovely handmade cloaks fell to reveal the bulge of her putrid body spilling through one of the garments, handmade carefully by a villager. She would shriek loudly as she hoisted her rotund body into her chariot and scream at the poor woman who had made her the clothes, insisting that it was her fault. The dress had poor seams or workmanship, when truly-it was the bloat of her badness popping through at every chance.
Sopora would turn as she heard the footsteps and the knock on her door. She liked her solitude and meant no harm to anyone. The knock was from another messenger. She should do as she was told or great harm would come her way. Her family-now almost gone and scattered throughout the land, seemed to be blinded by Depukly, but she would see what was happening and run for shelter. Holding strong against the winds of hate and despair. Looking longingly out her window, Sidalee nestled near her body-keeping her warm and safe-delivering the truth and strength to her. She rested and stayed in her place until all the spirits had left her being, and she could be at peace again!
There were days she knew she could trust many-and days that she felt betrayed. Her flesh and blood was withering from her side-and she had to stand fast with the inner strength of a woman. The Coronians fought the battle of the beast of evil every day. She knew that she had taught them well, and hoped her values would be passed to them, but it was teetering at the moment. Days earlier her brothers had been corrupted by DePukly.
This had happened time and time again, but she adored her two older brothers and did not know what she could say-to make them understand. After many, many years, of the crawling mange, they still did not understand what was true and whom they could trust. Did they really think at this point in time anything they could say would change the well thought out mind of Sopora. She had triumphed and would continue to do so. There was no fear, just future. The Gods had planned the life she had been given and they could take it away, so she lived each day searching for happiness and meaning. That is what you had to do. There was living to do-and you had to do it. She had done so much of it alone. She loved her brothers dearly, her entire family. They had been there for her, in the dawn of the age of the Hell of DePukly and Begbelly and knew, so, how could they trust DePukly after decades of harm? How could they even speak or listen to the blistering tongue wagging at them of the Lord Fet Flawber, DePukly, himself?
It had never seemed to stop.
The families mingled and spoke to Sopora, so much more, for her love, she could not understand how anyone could ever talk with DePukly again, but business is business and keep that in your pocket-don’t let it mingle with feelings and that is what they had done. Of course, utter realization had told them-Sopora could not and would not be swayed. It would be many saddened moons that would move across the sky-until they would all be joyous again.
When she had been young-she had looked upon these brothers as if they were two more fathers. Older, when she was born, they seemed like warriors, oracles, to keep her safe, healthy and with knowledge. She knew this to be true. But, she also knew about the gold-and how it glowed with power. The youngest of the family-and seemingly like an older child-she had been indulged and loved, with no barriers and with men surrounding her-she never knew of betrayal. This was her family. Her Mother had taught her to have a strong fortitude. She had never taught her of the badness of men. The people who counted the money and the people who searched you out to harm you-were never discussed. In the age of Sopora, what was discussed was family and children. Strength and ingenuity.
At the end of every week, her Mother would gather leaves and place them in a large pitcher at the center of the room/. She would gather sweets and make the family a beautiful dinner-so all could e together. They would join together for journeys and everyone would ride along. This is how it was and how she imagined that it should be. It was her quest to continue with this vision. One day, when she was calm and clear headed, she would find someone who would share this with her. When that would happen she would never know. But, he was around the bend of the road, nearby in another town. It could have been a universe away. Parallel lives, spinning out of control. Time would pass and the spirals would meet. She would will this to happen and Sir Jake would enter her life. But, along with him-would come things unseen. Things she would never imagine because she was the one that had carried such a heavy weight. Another family-with problems and the old lady, that thought she lived in a box. There was so much that was unknown. It would be a fantastic journey.

Saturday, September 13, 2003
The Path of Sopora
DePukly could never concede to anyone. Sopora knew this well. He was addressed as Lord DePukly. This is what he demanded, the formality of the elite and proper, must be present. Even, if he was never proper to anyone. His neediness and battered soul would always be in upheaval. Two sides fighting. One that had wanted long ago to know and one that could never know. These two sides produced a hate within.
Persistent in his “game” of life, the Lord of Fet Flawber, DePukly, had to have things the way he wanted. No, was a word he would not tolerate. Berating was his game. The old Obnoxia Begbelly thought this was an illustrious trait-she honed it-pleasured from it-and demanded it! Demanded it, so she would gain some power-from the weak position she had held her entire life. It was only in the trickery of her duality, that she had been able to fool the fool.
And, so whatever the task-DePukly would hound you! He was a dog, hunting the game bird and the killer, at the same time. He was a master at tasks of the powerfully taught elite. (I say this as an aside, if you learn the talk-the speech, you can use it to demand what you want from others in the land of the Feudal Lords. It is only a secret language-nothing else.) Though he could perform tasks, many would never be done at all. He liked the ability to hinder others. He did not know how to assist others-only to cripple, through whatever means. (Unless, of course, it helped the lair of the Lord DePukly and he was paid grandly.) Prolonging, squeezing, demanding, cursing, scrawling, hovering with his evil face-this was the only thing he knew.
But, there was one that had learned from this evil and knew he would not win, for she was not playing the game. She had played, so long ago, and realized the truth of the myth. She stood alone. Powerful from within, with her bright mind, unique being and perseverance, Sopora was a wonder. She loved and took delight from the many she knew. She held them close to her heart, sharing whatever she had and simply wanting to live the life that God had given her.
She was not to have this all time.
From the outside-it appeared as if her life was peaceful but many times she walked around with storms swirling within. Like tiny hurricanes and tornadoes, though she longed for one white peaceful snowfall. Trying to control issues, understand matters, horrors that were carved into her skin. She was happy with her life and meant no harm, but this was the very thing that harmed her. She trusted people and cared for them. They did not always care in the same good manner. Her goal was to look for the goodness, and share it with others. Sometimes this worked, sometime not. Sopora would run streaks though other people’s lives. Balancing an unending fest of activities, throwing her body down, for a brief rest, at the very last minute to gain strength and start again.
She had delivered two Coronians for DePukly. The seeds planted years ago; when life appeared one way-and all was a slight trick of the mirrors. She nurtured and gave to them a being from her inner self. Love, caring, affection, tolerance, guidance and unconditional survival for them to grow was her goal. She was the lifeline to stability and the foundation of their growth.
DePukly had gone away to an area said to be light and breezy, but closer to the haunting hell that raged in a glow of horrid orange. Horrange! What he could give was power, if they chose to beg. Beg they did, in order to gain the evil that was his power. Of course, Begbelly had become a skilled mistress at begging. Her namesake Begbelly, made her a natural. It was the others that knew little about the taming of the skill. And, the need to throw it away! Power overrides love, when things are not clear. One day-she hoped things would be clear again. But, while Lord DePukly of Fet Flawber pranced with Chegly Begbelly, in the deepness of the drunken moonlight, the Coronians could sometimes gather and feast as well. This was expected from them, when they were granted permission.
Sopora let the birds sail. Sadness and happiness would come and go-this she could not control-only her aura was able to survive in peace-from within. One day, she knew that upon the stone would be carved, peace. One day, on the hill. But, that was left for a future unknown. What she thought was good, was not always good, and, what she thought would be bad, always changed.
Sopora danced under the stars, after weeks of taunting dreams and betrayals, her eyes rested on a soul that had shared part of her life, when she was young, and again over the years. He was a whisper on the wind grazing her path. This soul was created in brilliance, by a higher power, white light shimmering across his body with a charisma that drew crowds of people to gather, as his merriment filled the air. Shining Starco. Starco had been a young creative, explosive man, unending changes filled his years. Now, he was older, more mature and yet, she had the same feeling when she looked upon his smile. His words drew whispers and sheer glee.
She was subdued as his voice poured forth in peels of laughter and gaiety. This was something she loved. When he entered a room, filled a stage, sat at your table, or in your chair, the world about you was transformed. This was the magical power that saved Sopora when she needed it the most. Sitting in his presence she thought longingly of Jamby. Jamby was always dancing about. Frittering, teetering, beguiling and yet earthly. Happy and yet not, Jamby was powerful and trustworthy. She was there to give, if not at the “right” time, anytime!
Sopora’s month had been long. Trying to stave off the battle of DePukly, Lord of Fetlea, she thought, debated, created and stood firm. Though all questioned her, because DePukly was always right (he tricked most of them) she stood firm in her beliefs. She was mortal. She would let the gnarled spirit of DePukly writhe in annoyance, as she learned. He was something unreal, and yet too real, overwhelming all that surrounded him with his split, carved tongue. When, this power entered her circle, she would spin. She would say her secret words, that no one knew and this would help stabilize the inertia. Spinning she would try to determine understanding from others. But, the others she trusted did not believe that she knew. Remember, the fool fools the fools. Standing alone and finally coming to terms with the demon, she went thru her final days of the month in a fantasy. And, when she had to ask those in the villages and the towns to confirm what she needed they looked at her and would cringe. Cringe more than she could imagine. Halls built of stone, said they could not help her-or they themselves might fall apart. Heat rose around her. Horses meant to deliver the packages of the villagers said they could not help. Places meant to protect the people in the towns from harm, were not prepared. Accidents had occurred in their very buildings and there was nothing they could do. It was said: We are sorry. And, on she went.
DePukly was never available when the young spirits needed him. Gone, left, away, Sopora will handle it, until DePukly was home in his damp stone manse. Sopora looked everywhere-and yet, they would all be gone, one by one, those tutoring her, those that slaved for DePukly would be missing, those that knew DePukly in other lives would wander, and those that should be there from the inner circle would “turn.” How had DePukly tricked and schemed to get this way, you ask? It was the gold that he gathered and hid in piles in the dungeons of his homes. He bribed and bought and cajoled. And, the greedy knew that if they had taken, they would also do have to do his bidding. Sometimes, they did and would pass on to another place. Sometimes they would understand the crime of DePukly. Sometimes, the inner circle was broken. It amazed Sopora. She wanted the circle to be tight. She reached out and tried to explain, but they said so many things about her: she was feeble, demanding, unknowing, unskilled, a layman. They could not see, for the flash of the gold, blinded their eyes, and seared the brain cells. Turned, their minds would join DePukly.
And, that is when Sopora said, I understand truth. I have practiced the truth. Now, I will let the truth flow and I will wait; now healing, for you to come to me. My heart will stay still, and wait. And, if you never come, I will still be here, standing alone, or deep within. A special spot-reserved for the soul of her spirit, to dance along the edge of the wind. Alone in strength of understanding, for the souls that know, feed me with knowledge. I am part of the wider world. Depukly, broad headed Obnoxia Begbelly (and, of course her perfect Wormealions), will endure. The Coronians fitted with the spirits of many good and bad will take time to learn. And, Sopora will learn the meaning of understanding. And, simply wait.

Steve you are wonderful!! Charisma, presence, charm, talent, and a huge heart! That is, Steve Tallerico, Steve Tyler of Aerosmith. The hottest of hottest shows, wearing a white linen shirt, draped open and flowing, and the sleakest of white patched pants, braids hanging from his hair with small beads, neck draped, arms wrapped, and dancing, prancing, swirling and twirling. You truly are a complete talent and energy! You are a Rock Star! And, to think we looked upon the Sergeant Pepper's Album when it was first released-and tried to figure out who the people were on the album cover, that's vinyl for sure! A day in the sun, on the bleachers in Yonkers, New York!!! A Moment! You were a talent back then-and a sweet guy!
Joe Perry, you're the best guitarist I've seen including Eric Clapton, Neil Young, Robbie Robertson, Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Janis Ian, Chris Issak and.....

Thursday, September 11, 2003
Dawn of DePukly
As dawn loomed over the cloudless skies-a gray haze fell thru the dirt-drenched windows. DePukly had become enthralled with staying with Begbelly. Conforted in the bulbous proportions of her body and never a hair bothered by the Wormealions, he knew that he was in his just and right place, for the time. Life to him was “light and breezy” After a while-his thoughts grew to great grandeur-and he knew that the sly companionship of Begbelly would bring him to new heights of lust, rage and self-righteousness. The hopes and dreams of others were cast aside, plunged into the darkness of his organs, the soul of rancidity. He would take pleasure in his writhing body-hideously transforming himself into the gladiator of a dream and a Lord. Though his thoughts were that of a gladiator, his body would be slight and bony, full of unending nerves, jutting from every spasm of his life. Wormealions, would cater to De Pukly too. They knew they had to or else they would suffer the wrath of their perfect Mother. So, they crept along on their bodies and scrubbed his infected toes, cleaned the sores that oozed their fiery poison and swabbed him in the anointed oils of pig and hare. They rubbed his body-caressing each decrepit bone. Until, like a glow-he was shining. His skin was deepened with henna. His face wore the mask of “normal” and his make-up hid so much! He would pretend to shine just like jellified Chegly after she had been bathed in tainted water and slobbering over large meals.
Drinking was a disease he adored, they both adored! Green boiled feet of bird would be chilled until the ripened pungent liquid would quench his thirst and turn his heart into a raging heap of pulsating meat. Exploding at all around him-there was never a chance to know-which person would emerge from behind the mask.
DePukly and Begbelly could douse themselves with poisonous potions of oil and slather soap of aged animal bodies across themselves, anything in order to regain the appearance of what was to be accepted in their little world. Their world was made up of the land that DePukly-Feudal Lord of Fet Flawber had gathered during his life. There were several other properties scattered throughout the world, as we know it, but Fet Flawber Manor was the main residence of DePukly and the ground upon which the people would scatter, as he walked by.
The power, which exuded from his body, was so repulsive that all wished that he could be banished to another world. Their wishes were dark and deep-and they never uttered their deepest thoughts, knowing there would be reprisal. Their minds were full of the deed that could be done-to stop the never-ending scabs which stuck to those when he flung them from his mouth. But, they knew that all this must be kept in a secret pocket of their lives-and dealt with as each thwarting glance and stab would be directed at them.
They knew that children, elders, women and men would be used up, to gather the berries or grain that grew on farms surrounding the land of DePukly’s, Fet Flawber. In a blink of an eye a parent would see their children whisked away to do the bidding of De Pukly. Stuck in a wagon, car or train they could be herded at anytime to some far off spot, to work and toil-with a meager bowl of slug and a cold dirt floor to call home. The people tried and tried to escape from his eye of wickedness and run their personal lives quietly, but it was so difficult, when the pen, lips or mind of DePukly put them at the top of his list-to destroy or bother.
Begbelly loved to see the world cringe about her. She loved when every shopkeeper jumped at her demands for more “things” to adorn her sumptuous body and satiate her big belly. She thought nothing of treating anyone as a lowly creature; those that she deemed had no beauty and status. She, alone, had the status she thought everyone envied. Sending horrible letters and threats along the mail, using her donkey and servants, she would spend endless days constructing the most despicable hurtful items, if only to annoy, and hurt others. She would get such glee, as she wrapped each little package in plain sticky, soiled, oily paper. She thought they would never know that it was Begbelly herself who spent hours “making up” these insidious packages, but once received they were quite obviously the hand of this deranged woman. What power she thought she had, when, in truth, they sat back and saw that she was a cringing wimp, with feet of steel and a forehead so large that it had started to bulge like a cliff hanging over her eyes. She tried and tried to lift this sagging lump with string, clips and hinges. She sought doctors and lawyers to argue for her and her need to place her body back in the casing that consumed her thoughts. Money was all she needed to make her look presentable and for this she turned over her lumpy body to DePukly. She cringed at his touch, at his kiss, at his stroke as she pushed him far from her-when their feeble attempt at love was done. Oh, to get rid of the man who carried the heavy bag of money and grab it only for herself and the Wormealions.
Dumb and stupid he labored, trying to fill the thin animal skinned shoes that tried to hide his feet that had turned into the color of deep green, gangrene. Sliding easily as he walked, he thought he knew that having Chegly Begbelly by his side was what would bring him stature. And, with every step, they tripped and slipped and plunged about.
Power was just out of her reach. She had only the power of the purse, slung from her gnarled shoulder as she leaped into her chariot, carrying more and more crumpled boxes of consumption. It meant nothing, but looked so good.
Rules, rules and more rules were made at every place their blubbery bodies would plunge. Always looking for rest, as their restless dreams of perfection, jerked on. Shifting from place to place, they posted lists for those that would seek their approval. You had to know and learn clearly, how to behave, how to sit, what to touch, where and what you were permitted to eat (if anything) and how you should treat De Pukly and Chegly Obnoxia. Most laughed at her conceit and stupidity. Neurosis again would shine its face clearly. Nothing was for comfort-all was cardboard fabrications of a life that surrounded them. Tin, plastic, paper, and all false. All, not real. Like the eating of a tainted mushroom of the earth, she would consume the shroom and only see luxury-when all would see falseness.
Shrill, stern, demanding, all-powerful, she would try to control the innermost burst of laughter, the glimmer of a smile from everyone around, especially DePukly, who thought this was a very regal habit to attain. Everyone around her would be miserable; none could be as perfect as she and she harbored that thought deep within her veins. But, De Pukly savored this masquerade. This is who he was, a slithery worm, dressed as a person of wealth, with sores and puss. There was no pretending. Those that have seen both sides of his forked tongue be twisted to a peak saw just as well, the hate and anger that had been expunged. They wondered, where his body and mind had gone. Hidden in the closet, behind the mirror of the faces of rotting souls. Stolen away, given away. Gone.
Obnoxia Begbelly loved the thought of the hidden other. She danced with a hideous twirl, slurping as drool frothed in he mouth and down her blackened neck. She tried so hard to wipe this away-to hide in under her cloak of silk or fine wool. The fabric would get dampened and soiled, forever scraping it with her hands, trying for eternity to hide the reality from all who could come close.
But, the ones that came closest were her Wormealions, and they knew, but never said a thing. Clearing up each speck of dust and drool as it scattered itself from her putrid body. They hoped each particle would leave for Oblivion. They hoped that it would all be lost in Oblivion, but it was truly not to be.
Jamby was the Earth of Oblivion and how she loved to watch the speckles float by-in hopes of catching one and pursuing victory in the land of Fet Flawber. Her hope was to turn DePukly and Begbelly into seeds of dirt, placed deep in the polluted wells and banished forever. This was a dream of wreathes of daisies, kettles of warm broth, arms folded about the people of her land and the lands to be. Live long Jamby, Mother of Earth, of the children, three of her own, born to her on a single day, in the midst of a hurricane of confusion and thriving forever in eternity. Live long Jamby, Live long Masee, Mother of Jamby, long beloved friends of peace. Arise sweet Hoonis; take your place in the palace of the peace of Oblivion.

I HEAR AMERICA SINGING is a wondrous PBS site that will keep y ou in touch with the American Arts. Take a look. Its contents are rewarding and sumptuous-richly dedicating itself to theAmerican Artists of the 20th Century.

Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Wormealions-the poorest saints…
As the sun rose and Begbelly and DePukly were awakening from their crumpled slumber-the young Wormealions (the born ones of Chegly Obnoxia Begbelly the Begbellion) came creeping in. With heads the shape of scrawny tubes and bodies shaped like worms, but more bulbous, the Wormealions appeared to the side of the mirror, the color of withered leaves by the edge of the road, on a dim October day.
They crawled next to the Best Mother in the World, Chegly Obnoxia Begbelly. No one was as wonderful as the highest of higher, anointed mother, mother of the souls that are left to fall to hell-upon their calling. They had done little, but be perfect in every way that their demanding mother encouraged. Oh, to be left to themselves when Chegly Begbelly would leave the house to gather bits and pieces for their slimy mouths. (Shall we cry?) And, to be left to themselves when Chegly would adorn herself with finery, slide towers of steel on her feet and paint red bloodroot across her bland broad face. Her shroud, which she dropped from time to time-revealed a large gnarly head with a forehead big enough for the storage of the evil stem cells. Her body produced these at a lively rate. This scientific production was increased each time Chegly consumed another human spirit. It was a wondrous treat for her!

The Wormealions were very much like their Mother-having very little to do with the creature that had been the giver of their life, another life consumed by Begbelly. (And, she the Hostess with the Mostess!) Chegly Begbelly had taught the Woremalions how to be good, quiet children and never cross their mother-for fear that they too, would be left at the side of the road; during her pursuit of a higher more dignified life. They were left in a hovel of clapboard and tar, with a dirt drenched sodden piece of land surrounding the bleakness of the gray, dirt shadowed windows. Like little mites, they scurried about, making sure that even the most meager piece of flying dust amidst the particles that led to oblivion, were cleaned and blown away, over and over and over again! The neurosis of perfection was just one of the many annoying compulsions of Begbelly-including her desire to taunt and prey, perfection was her quest! When their Mother entered at the end of a working woman’s long day of conquest and prostitution of life-she would feel as she should-untouched perfection. Her children cowered as she thrust the heap of her body thru the sagging door. Queen~doom Chegly Begbelly was home. These saddened little creatures glowered amidst her sardonic attitude; knowing that it was their only hope. She would use her skills to leech upon a “bread giver” that would provide for her and her Wormealions. They danced with glee when morsels of leftover rotted fruit were tossed to them. In a corner they ate quickly. They made sure that water they had heated on piles of brush and twigs would be glazed across her body making sure to clean the red blood root paint from her forehead revealing her poisoned sores of riddled triumph.
Wormealions longed to benefit from the feats of their Mother. Her lying, cheating, twisting truths, manipulations, all for the ability to snare the one who would allow them some scum from the bottom of the pool of wealth that she so haggardly longed for, and worked for. In order to gain-anything-from anyone.
She tossed about after she had bathed in the tepid pool of tainted water-until she was ready to sleep. Nightmares of grandeur-which to her were the dreams of satisfaction-of the theft of souls, danced, weeping through her mind.
Her children smirked with glee-once she had started to snore with the deepest, throaty grunts. They knew they had fulfilled her wishes and in turn-they hoped to be fed the next day. And, one day-they would be grand enough to leave the squalor of their pit and travel afar. They longed for new a new home, a room to share, as they huddled and groveled from the new mattress made of charred bone, horsehair or cows tail. With the newest of her conquests and the twisted might of her inner pitted soul-she knew-and so did they, that De Pukly would bring them grandeur-greater than any. He was for sure, the meekest of men-and this was the best to Begbelly. She could twist and taunt and churn the life and breath from anyone-and why not? What appears to be is not! And those looking for the epitome-sometimes get the “pit”. Oh the twisted sadness of the slimy brain.

JLO Postpones Wedding! As if anyone ever believed this would happen, last or that the prenuptuals were a done deal!
Really, Ben, you need to give that girl from the Bronx some gifts-a dozen roses to make her feel good about herself-or maybe just look her way sometimes!

Tuesday, September 09, 2003
Continued from August 27th...and, to be continued....
De Pukly Begbelly had been seething for such a long time-that smoke was dripping like tar through his nose. Seemed as if happiness was never within reach and Chegly Begbelly, his darling wife was never any help, just a misery and hindrance. He was used to this, obedient to her whims. Oh yes, she could dress up and slither, all tucked into her finery-but happiness was not an offering. Most of the time she lay upon her bed, blubber of unkemptness, floating around her-while her breath wafted from her mouth cursing her life of wealth and entitlement. She had chosen this life-because it meant dressing her gnarled body in clothes so tight-that it hurt and her mouth would be twisted causing deep pain to the bones in her throat. But, the two acted well together and their joyless life continued. De Pukly Begbelly, was a cruel man-and found the greatest pleasure in his hurting others. He knew that this was a game of sport and it would make Chegly treat him with meager kindness, so he pursued the hate of everyone. He scrawled nasty notes across letters, he emitted a stench whenever close by-and during communications with the lowly regular folks-he would set out to cut your skin and throw salt and brine on it. Just for fun!! Chegly Begbelly-would roll with laughter when she heard such good stories and this only increased his need to please the beautiful wife-beautiful only to his squinted, glassy yellow eyes!
His latest “sport” was to torture a woman of the village. She was unimportant, just a piece of flesh to play with. This would bring satisfaction to him. So, he wrote nasty letters-and bullied her all day and night. Sometimes he would see her children in the village and he would throw the puke of his body at them-so that they were covered in yellow, harsh, burning slime. His puke was like that from a poison ivy or oak bush. When infected the small nodes of blisters would fill with the grandest yellow liquid. It would leak from the red blistery, warts on his body and when he would get mad and fully blown up-it would spray on those he was angry with. Some elders knew this and stayed a distance, trying not to ever get involved, but the children and those others would sometimes get too close. They seemed to remember a voice they had trusted from many season’s ago and they would get a bit too close. At this point the thick yellow liquid would spray about them. They would cringe-begging forgiveness and understanding-until they were ground into the earth-begging DePukly for relief. Relief would only come when you would pledge your life and soul to him. Which would be taken at whim, anytime, anyplace. Some younger ones were stupid in their thoughts. They believed that by their pledging their lives, life would be grand and green and the seasons would flow. But, it wasn’t true and they were always fooled. They learned this too late. Draining every ounce of bodily fluid and brain mass from their poor little bodies. He would erode the very being of their youth. Erode happiness and pleasantry. He would feast on hate and transfer this to them-so that right and wrong meant nothing. Darts made from bone would be thrown from their hands, at others, just for him.
He would sit, hunched over, in a scratchy old chair-the one in the corner near the mirror-that Chegly had set up and drink the brown slime that he had brought back from his land. Crouching lower, he would drink the bitter, polluted water of the well that sat on the hill-at the side of the mountain that he would visit. He owned this mountain. He owned much land in this awful De Puk~doom. His land and the wells, had been polluted long ago, by the vastness of his disease, and the slime of his dear one, his wife, Chegly Begbelly. But, De Pukly and Begbelly would visit their land often. They would get great joy, because this was land taken from all those around them-including the poor children who had tried to plant on their meager earthen lots.
De Pukly and Begbelly would dance upon the ridge, of the fountains, of the well, swallowing mouthfuls of the hideous slime. Until, falling in a heap, they would slather themselves with the mud of the polluted earth and fall into a deep sleep with grotesque nightmares-which thrilled them. There they would stay, until the moon turned into the sun-and just before the dawn would glow-they would slither back to their grand home-and converge on the rotted food, under the bed, at the corner of the room-near their grand mirror. Teeth rotting, souls spinning, stuffed and satiated they would sleep like lumps of blubber and bone, once again.

Monday, September 08, 2003
Kimora Goes Shoppin'
Page Six, Richard Johnson
September 8, 2003 -- If you want to keep your job, don't mess with Kimora Lee Simmons, the wife of powerful hip-hop entrepreneur Russell Simmons. A Victoria's Secret clerk was recently fired from the 34th Street store after running afoul of her. Spies say Kimora accused the clerk of being a fan who was following her around the store. When he responded, "I'm not a fan," she summoned security. Simmons' lawyer says the clerk "verbally assaulted" Kimora but offered no specifics.
Nice phone!

Must tell you-this is sinfully delicious-and wanted to try it-but I am a shortcut cook-so, toast some bread-and spread with butter or margarine---sprinkle a few (tons if you like) chocolate chips and microwave for 20 seconds. You will not be disappointed!
Heaven on Earth! Chocolate Sandwiches!!
In case you're running out fo creative cooking ideas, for the Chocolate Lover, this is an easy one and so delicious. Another wonderful treat for breakfast or a snack, Danish Sandwiches, made on whole grain bread with butter, cinnamon & sugar, topped with crisp apple slices! I like Gala apples, but that's up to you!
Also, pears and bananas sauteed in a pan with a bit of olive oil and brown sugar! Cook on low, till warm and soft!

Dan Forbes for The New York Times
Maury Rubin's grilled chocolate sandwich.

Bread Alert

The Atkins diet has triumphed, the French diet guru Michel Montignac is in resurgence and ''low carbs'' has become the mantra (or is it war cry?) of the fit and fabulous. So in a clever bit of adaptation, bread, once the benign starter to every restaurant meal, has migrated to the other, more sinful side of the menu. It has become dessert.

Bread pudding, of course, has long been a favorite of children of all ages. And the French have always paired bread with chocolate; pain au chocolat is now ubiquitous. But the grilled chocolate sandwich is both simpler and more decadent, a primal blast of bread and chocolate in which the two components are evenly matched -- and mutually enhancing.

In part, this new sandwich is a reflection of the popularity of panino shops around the city. And Lord knows, all those owners of George Foreman grills are always looking for something new to do with their favorite gadget. So perhaps the grilled chocolate sandwich was inevitable. What's fascinating is how varied the combination becomes in the hands of talented chefs.

At the Chickenbone Cafe in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, Zakary Pelaccio grills bittersweet chocolate between slices of rich brioche, creating a density akin to the most elegant cake. 'Wichcraft bills its chocolate sandwich as a breakfast item (albeit available all day). However, melted chocolate, roasted banana and hazelnut on brioche is morning fare only for those who find Krispy Kremes a touch too ascetic.

At the City Bakery, the owner and chef Maury Rubin has come up with the simplest and most delicious variation. He uses the finest-grained white bread, lightly buttered, then filled with a ganache and batons of dark chocolate. Grilled and cut on the diagonal, it evokes the joys of that archetypal childhood treat, the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, but it is a far darker, more sophisticated creation. ''Most pastry looks great but never tastes quite as good as you think it will,'' Rubin says. ''This is exactly the opposite experience.''

Maury Rubin's Grilled Chocolate Sandwich
8 ounces dark (bittersweet) chocolate
1/2 cup heavy cream
12 to 16 slices of plain white bread
Handful of chocolate batons ( 1/2 inch long) or chocolate chips (about 1/3 cup)
3 to 4 tablespoons soft butter.

1. Chop the chocolate fine and set aside in a medium bowl.

2. Heat the cream in a small saucepan until just boiling and pour over the chopped chocolate. Let stand 1 minute, then whisk until smooth. Refrigerate until just slightly solid, about 30 minutes.

3. Spread a layer of the chocolate mixture 1/4-inch thick (approximately 2 to 3 tablespoons) on half the bread sides to within about 1/4 inch of the edges. Press about 2 teaspoons of the chocolate chips (or 5 or 6 pieces of batons) into the center of each filling.

4. Spread a bit of softened butter over one side of the remaining slices. Buttered side up, place the slice over each chocolate-spread slice and press lightly around the edges to seal. Refrigerate for at least 15 minutes before putting on a grill or on a press. (If you are using a skillet instead, freeze the sandwich 15 minutes.)

5. Heat a grill or sandwich press (or a large griddle or skillet over medium-high heat), and add the sandwiches. Press on one side only for a minute or two (depending on the particular grill or press you're using) until the bread is nicely browned; the chocolate should be barely melted and not swimming out the side. If you are using a griddle or skillet, heat the sandwich first on the unbuttered side until lightly toasted, about 1 minute; turn the sandwich over and weight it down by placing a baking sheet or pan on top of the sandwich and placing a few soup cans on top. Toast for another minute, until golden. Cut in half and finish with a frilled toothpick.

Yield: 6 to 8 sandwiches.

Sunday, September 07, 2003
An epiphany-an enlightening...a surge of electric power! Motorola is signing a deal with Microsoft. Soon we will all be wired without wires with a computer chip in our brain. It's a thought: Computer Chip For Our Brain!!
So close to the surface of my memory. The little boy looked out his bedroom window-only to see a spaceship land on the hill near his home. A computer chip was placed at the base of everyone's skull-and they were now controlled by aliens! !Invaders From Mars, 1953.
Fabulous Science Fiction Movie Index for you to review. Great reference for science fiction movies you must watch!
Two of the scariest movies, "The Hunch Back of Notre Dame" and the "The Mummy," the original black & white films of the 50s. So young and so frightened as the Mummy carries the body back to the swamp-and the Hunchback lurks throughout!

Saturday, September 06, 2003
Rusty Warren, a bawdy, sexually liberated and exhilarating comedian of the 60's with 7 gold albums and a fan club of over a million people-represents the sexual revolution of the "swinging 60s girl"! She's a must to listen to on an album or CD. She's unique!

May, 2003, Better Homes and Gardens. An article about a business named TARASCON, named after a town near the Rhone River in France. The business is run by Julie Goebel who lives in Portland, Oregon. She takes women on shopping trips to France for antiques. Sounds like a great idea! Any information, please email me!

Friday, September 05, 2003
This is Your Life, Kimora Lee
The comment by Kimora Lee Simmons (ie girl's fashion) which is noted below and quoted, is like having Monica Lewinsky-discuss "Behavior Of Interns in The White House!" I need Oxygen! A beautiful trophy wife-with clothes that are down to there and up to there! She is not an authority!! How big is that new house? 35,000 square feet-are you cooking or cleaning? Or, will you take to your boudior ala Turn of the Century (I do mean the 1900's ...ailing wives" and manage the servants? Telling girls parents that it is strictly their responsibility to monitor girls clothing-is pretty hard to do-when the industry places skimpy clothes at the forefront and you are one of the "respectables" that wears this stuff! Jen, Christina, Britney, not talkin' bout you! Reading recently on Page Six as she goaded people at a fund raising auction to bid higher-and bid more and that her shoes were worth more was ludicrous! Her husband and philanthropist Russell Simmons was part of this fund raising activity. Searching for the actual words (and promise to post). Dear, dear Kimora, no intenion to harm, so forgive me! (As if you care!) And, I know Russell was taken aback by "nasty" comments about his wife-but if she said it-she said it! Did she Cindy? And, Russell, we know your wife is quite pretty-but what are her stats pre-marriage to a mega-guy like you? She did "*STAR*" in two movies and after-Mrs. Russell Simmons! But, she does lend her hand at signatures for Baby Phat Inc. stuff, Kimora Endorses Her Signature Motorola Phones. Giving this person some sort of intrinsic value as a mega conglomerate bizzness is something that you may wish to do-but the "others" just see her for what she is-your very enabled wife! With Money! Anyone want to ask Kobe Bryant's wife what she does? or, maybe Ellen Barkin? The list is too long. Be what you are-it's more flattering!
"Parents have to think about a life of commerce these kids are caught up in and teach them some media literacy," Ms. Quart suggested. Kimora Lee Simmons, designer of the hugely popular Baby Phat line, said they also "have to sit their kids down and take some major responsibility when they start wearing clothes that make them look like hootchie mamas, stuff that was never designed with children in mind."
This is your BIGGEST MARKET!!!!

I discussed these issues wth my son. He didn't have the understanding of who Kathy Boudin, was or what she was "fighting" for, the rebel without her own cause. A follower! Though I have read that she was a smart woman-who liked structure. Structure and repitiousness was joining the Underground and having someone tell you what to do and who you would be. Kathy Boudin followed those rules.

Forgotten New York will help you follow her early path and the paths of so many others that helped create a better world. I know, for the families that changed forever on that day in Nyack NY, because of her deadly radicalism, Kathy Boudin should stay where she is, being extremely productive, in a structured situation!

Anna Quindlen on Kathy Boudin, Political Change and Lives Lost

Sept. 8 issue — In the ways that seem to matter to her, the world is remarkably unchanged since Kathy Boudin essentially left it in 1970.

THERE IS STILL A CHASM between rich and poor, white and black. Environmental concerns have a habit of giving way to the profit motive. The state of California is in thrall to an actor of marginal talents, and a Republican administration in Washington is devoted to self-perpetuation. There is even a nasty little quagmire of a war, one that many believe was ill conceived from the very beginning. Once again the government of the United States is determined to destroy the village in order to save it, whether the villagers like it or not. Cue the echo chamber.
But the world into which Boudin will emerge, after a decade underground and two more in prison, is changed in one important way, at least as far as her crimes are concerned. In the years she has been away the American people have been treated, over and over again, to political frustration expressed through violence. And the result has been a full and bitter understanding of the tragic disconnect that those actions represent.
Boudin was the crown princess of the antiwar movement in the late ’60s, brilliant, committed and from rad aristocracy. Her father, Leonard, was one of the country’s best-known civil-rights attorneys; her uncle was the radical journalist I. F. Stone. She became a household name when a Greenwich Village brownstone cum bomb factory was blown to smithereens and three members of the Weather Underground died in the explosion. Boudin survived, and disappeared, only to surface again just more than a decade later when she was part of the getaway team for an armored-car robbery by the Black Liberation Army. Two police officers and a security guard were killed. Kathy Boudin has been in prison ever since.
But out in the world, versions of the frustrated radical, enraged by the intractability of the political landscape and fired by the rightness of the cause, have gone about their bloody business. Across the country and the globe they seem to erupt every day now: suicide bombings in Israel, abortion-clinic murders in Florida and New York, the destruction of the federal building in Oklahoma City and, of course, the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on September 11, 2001. In just the last few weeks there have been a brace of killings by those who believe their actions are justified by their beliefs. When you read that Kathy Boudin, looking back on her younger self, identified with Joan of Arc, the incredulity is mixed with recognition. So many erstwhile Joans and Johns have emerged over the last three decades to bear witness by their actions to the belief that political change trumps innocent blood.
Revolutionary or reactionary, the problem with this is that it is ideology divorced from humanity, empty as the transparent carapace of a cicada, the living thing gone from within. Political protest through killing the children in a day-care center, or the restaurant workers at Windows on the World, or a doctor who has delivered hundreds of babies—no matter how you configure that equation, it will not compute. Boudin said at a parole hearing that in her former deluded state the Brinks robbery was “like Robin Hood, taking from the rich and giving to the poor.” But the robbery left three working-class guys dead and three families to soldier on without any mythical figure riding up with a bag of gold. It is not possible to destroy the workers in order to save them. Peter Paige, Edward O’Grady, Waverly Brown. They were real people, not political theory.

Boudin deserved to be paroled under the rules of our system, a system she once rejected and the murdered men were paid to uphold. She’s been a model prisoner, and she will probably do some good in the world when she re-enters it. The families of the three men killed in the Brinks robbery don’t agree; they’ve been lobbying to keep her in prison for the rest of her life. I wouldn’t presume to speak for someone who has lived with that kind of loss, but I suspect that nothing is ever enough to redress it. The families have suggested that, irony of ironies, it was class privilege that got the radical sprung, that because of her family circle of influential intellectuals she got preferential treatment. The opposite was probably true. If Kathy Boudin had been an ordinary inmate in for being a party to an ordinary robbery, without political overtones or constant publicity, she likely would have been paroled two years ago.
It’s hard to find a way in today’s world to make a dent in all the inequities that exist and seem likely to continue for the foreseeable future. Political avenues seem like cul-de-sacs, and radical groups have become parodies of themselves. Boudin, who got a master’s degree in prison, has said she wants to be a social worker and perhaps work with AIDS patients. Think globally, act locally: somehow it doesn’t seem entirely sufficient. The other day I drove by a car that had the bumper sticker IF YOU’RE NOT OUTRAGED, YOU’RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION. The question is where outrage leads you. Destroying people to save mankind is not an option.

Teen Angst at Thirteen, The Movie was the impetus for these thoughts. So Sad and Silly. Gut Wrenching! Not trite!
What was the youth war cry so long ago, Fourteen or Fight? From the movie, "Wild in the Streets! And, great thanks to an intellectual web search who helped me out!
FourteenorFight, a brilliant web page for our time! Thank you, for increasing my understanding of the youths! Truly!

Just a few thoughts for the Mom, Dad or Caregiver that wants to encourage self esteeem and caring about others. Let's not forget the boys. There's a lot of macho competition, sports competition and girl competition. Everyone jockeying for position. Pressures of drinking and drugs or just bullying on the playground. Who is going to be the one with the most girlfriends?? Or, the star pitcher on the team. Get the best marks in school and fail at humanity? Let them each be caring first about themselves and the people around them.
The seasons go round and round!
The circle must be complete!

The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell

Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star
Then the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like, when you're older, must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and dawn
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we con only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game.

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town
And they tell him,
Take your time, it won't be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and dawn
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur
Coming true
There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through.
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Thursday, September 04, 2003
Teens Back To School Clothes!!

The Skin Wars Start Earlier and Earlier

The front lines are drawn in the cool nonspace of every suburban mall. Here, at the Abercrombie & Fitch store in the Westchester, a vast shopping center, pictures of half-nude models hang coyly above registers, and shoppers skirmish amiably over cropped miniskirts and skimpy tank tops against an aural backdrop of the White Stripes.

The combatants, if they can be called that, are parents and their daughters, and the fraught territory they are contesting is adolescent sexuality. When The Washington Post reported last summer that fashions for girls in the "tween" years were "long on skin, short on modesty," it was noting a reality that many parents of teenagers know only too well. A lot of what passes for pop culture at the moment seems specifically oriented toward the gaze and delight of hormonally surging 17-year-old boys.

"The `whore wars' are a big issue," said Donna Cristen, who was shopping for back-to-school clothing on Thursday with her daughter, Tess, 13. Ms. Cristen's reference was to a term that arose on the Internet, where commentators like Betsy Hart of CNN complained that stores as mainstream as J. C. Penney, Target and the Limited Too were increasingly carrying clothing that could seem designed to suit the needs of women who work the Lincoln Tunnel on-ramp. (Repeated calls to representatives of those stores last week were not returned.)

"Dressing like a slut," Ms. Hart called it, and she was far from the first. Not long ago, the television commentator Bill Maher made the point that the way things are going in fashion, there will soon be nothing left for prostitutes to wear.

"Everything in stores now is so provocative, you have to keep a close watch," Ms. Cristen said, referring to the plethora of spaghetti strap blouses, midriff-baring tank tops, platform shoes, thongs, T-shirts emblazoned with double-entendre slogans and camisoles with built-in bras, all pitched by retailers at girls who have barely crossed the threshold of puberty.

Ms. Cristen's daughter, who attends the private Windward School in White Plains, characterized her own style as "a little punky, a little sporty and a little preppy" and was dressed with a degree of maturity well beyond her years.

"We were just talking about how low is too low," Ms. Cristen said, referring to necklines for teenagers. A blouse is probably cut too low, she and her daughter agreed, not when a young woman shows cleavage but when her neckline reveals "another color" of skin.

Randi Cardia, who lives in Manhattan and has two teenage daughters, described a majority of the clothes offered for them as "hooker wear."

"There are a lot of us out there that are just appalled that someone hasn't taken a stand," Ms. Cardia said — a stand against what she called "disgusting role models" like Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, whose images might have sprung from the fantasies of Humbert Humbert.

"It's normal now to see these 12-year-old or younger girls trying to be Britney and Christina, with their pierced bellybuttons, their tiny little tube tops, their strappy shoes and their shorts" showing the tops of their buttocks, said Ms. Cardia, who, discouraged by the current run of back-to-school offerings, shops with her daughter at stores that cater to boys.

Naturally, there are parents lucky enough to avoid the problem, either because their children are fashionproof or because they choose icons of another sort. "It's not an area worth making an issue of, for us," said Jill Hayman, a real estate lawyer at Morgan Stanley whose 14-year-old daughter, Remy Nelson, attends the Fieldston School. "When she leaves the house she's usually wearing a short-sleeved shirt, a pair of pants and sneakers," Ms. Hayman said. "She's an Avril Lavigne fan, luckily for us," she added, referring to the teenage pop star who dresses like an adolescent boy.

Still, the teenage-strumpet look is ubiquitous, so much so that many schools have been forced to modify dress codes to address concerns that are as much practical as moral. "If you can't sit on the floor in a discussion group about a piece of literature without calling attention to yourself," said John Fierro, the principal of Dorchester Elementary School in Woodcliff Lake, N.J., referring to the micro-miniskirts now popular among middle-school girls, "you're not appropriately dressed."

The dress codes at the Woodcliff Lake schools resemble those across the country, where educators have become reluctant fashion monitors. "Revealing, low-cut, transparent, suggestive clothing is forbidden" at Woodcliff Lake schools, Mr. Fierro said, as are halter tops; micro-minis; clothes with slogans or artwork that refer to tobacco, drugs, alcohol or violence; clothes that show off body piercing; platform shoes; backless sandals; and even bangle bracelets, which could be a menace to a fourth grader doing layups in phys ed.
The Skin Wars Start Earlier and Earlier

"Cultural norms are changing, and parents are met with problems today that they probably wouldn't have seen 20 years ago," Mr. Fierro said. "I hate to Britney Spears-bash, but parents are now in a position where they're talking to a kid and saying: `I realize your role model is 18 or 19. You're 10.' "

The days are gone when 10 could still be thought of as the prime of childhood, a late-Victorian convention that survived intact until marketers found a way to exploit the territory. Behind the sartorial rebelliousness that jolted reviewers of the current movie "Thirteen" — tongue piercings and shredded hip-huggers, skimpy shirts and weird eye makeup — another message was concealed. That one involved cultural complacency about childhood reshaped along mercantile lines.

"In marketing circles, they talk about K.G.O.Y.," an abbreviation for Kids Getting Older Younger, said Alissa Quart, the author of "Branded: The Buying and Selling of Teenagers" (Perseus Books, 2003). "You want to get them younger, so they're full of aspiration not only to look older but to spend older."

That this strategy works seemed clear at Delia's, an apparel store in the Westchester mall, which was packed on Thursday with young shoppers pawing through racks of $22 T-shirts imprinted with phrases like "Parental Guidance Suggested." It is by no means obvious how well such guidance is heard. Most Delia's customers are teenagers, said Nicole Gallego, a saleswoman there, and many pay for their own purchases, often with personal credit cards.

"They seem to have money," said Ms. Gallego, who added that the authority exercised by teenagers seems to extend beyond the gold cards they tote in their Vuitton clutches. "You'll never hear a mother say, `You can't wear that to school,' " she said.

And if you did, you would be tuning in to an argument immemorial in its circularity. "You can never tell your child that she looks like this or that," said Donna Cristen. "Instead you ask, `What kind of image are you trying to portray?' "

Yet even the experts are at a loss to define it. What is an appropriate image of youth when pubescent 13-year-olds already look the way 27-year-old sexpots did a generation ago? Teenagers "dress like trollops now," said Kim France, the editor of Lucky magazine. Far from being a ploy by talk-show hosts to boost ratings, the "whore wars" may actually be a cultural alert.

"You don't want to sound censorious or reactionary," Ms. Quart said. "But kids watch HBO. They see late-night TV. They see the 200 channels teeming with quasi-pornographic imagery." Trying to dam the image torrent is probably misguided and certainly Sisyphean. There is clearly no future in arguing against Britney Spears.

"Parents have to think about a life of commerce these kids are caught up in and teach them some media literacy," Ms. Quart suggested. Kimora Lee Simmons, designer of the hugely popular Baby Phat line, said they also "have to sit their kids down and take some major responsibility when they start wearing clothes that make them look like hootchie mamas, stuff that was never designed with children in mind."

Even in the information age, students have to learn the traditional three Rs — reading, writing and arithmetic. But few lesson plans require that students master the environmental Rs — reduce, reuse and recycle. The goal, of course, is to reduce the amount of waste by reusing and recycling products whenever possible. And parents can do their part to make the coming academic year a greener one.

Send your children to school in style — and with an environmental lesson.

HERE ARE 10 Earth-friendly tips to get started:
1. Keep toting those lunch boxes: For generations, kids have been hauling metal lunch boxes with hinged snap closures back and forth to school. And that’s a good thing. Using a lunch box instead of disposable lunch bags not only saves a few bucks but also reduces the amount of waste that ends up in our nation’s landfills.
If you have to buy a new lunch box each year to get your kids in the school spirit, don’t sweat it. Just use the old ones to store small toys, crayons or even adult office supplies.
This soft-sided lunch box featuring SpongeBob SquarePants costs $12.99 at
Lunch boxes are sold everywhere on the Web. They can be found at major department stores, toy stores and niche shops. Many sport contemporary characters, which are likely to appeal to your kid.
For example, lunch boxes that feature cartoon character SpongeBob SquarePants — the No. 1 television show for kids ages 6 to 11— come in several styles. has a soft insulated version with SpongeBob’s image for $12.99. Both and, the online shop affiliated with Nickelodeon, also have a soft-sided lunch box for $12.99 plus a classic-style tin one for $8.99.
2. and 3. Buy lunch food in bulk and invest in reusable containers: When making school lunches, one of the greatest challenges is to keep packaging to a minimum. First, buy lunch food in bulk to avoid the excess packaging associated with lunch- or snack-size products. Second, pack the lunch foods in reusable containers rather than disposable sandwich bags.

Back-to-school shopping

The least expensive reusable containers are those made by commercial manufacturers and sold at grocery stores. Online grocer sells a variety of them. The Glad sandwich-sized, five-pack, which costs $1.99, is a great deal but remember, the soft plastic containers have to be replaced periodically. Other companies, such as, make sturdier containers, which cost more but can last a lifetime.
4. Include cloth napkins instead of paper ones with lunch: Cloth napkins are relatively cheap if not fashionable these days. even has some on sale right now. A set of four napkins from the “fruit salad collection” currently sell for $9.99, reduced from $14. Napkins included the “sunflower collection” are also marked down from $14 to $9.80.
5. Pack lunch boxes with healthy food: Think whole-grain bread instead of processed white bread. Celery sticks instead of chips. Always include an apple. And if you can, buy them at a neighborhood fruit stand and support your local farmer.
6. Ditto re: snack time: Cut-up some vegetables or have fresh fruit on hand rather load up the kids with sugar-filled treats and soda.
7. Shop for recycled goods: Look for recycled products at mainstream office supply stores or shop at retailers that specialize in environmentally friendly products. These products tend to be more expensive than regular school supplies. But since you’ll be saving with the reusable products listed above, indulge in at least a few items.
Recycled paper notebooks at Green Earth Office Supply contain 5 percent banana fiber.
Los Gatos, Calif.-based Green Earth Office Supply has the best selection, from push pins made from recycled plastic to backpacks made from recycled tires. My favorites are the Earth-friendly notebooks, made from unbleached, post-consumer paper, which contains about 5 percent banana fiber. Each 11-by-8.5 inch, one-subject notebook sells for $5. A pack of six costs $24. Second Nature notebooks, made from 60 percent recycled paper, are less expensive. These one-subject, 11-by-8.5 inch notebooks sell for $3. Six cost $16.25. Other environmental friendly office supply shops include and
8. Organize a class trip to a local park: Arrange in advance for a short hike with a park ranger or a lesson from another environmental educator.
9. Lobby for in-school programs: Super-ambitious parents may want to start a composting program in their kids’ school and turn lunch leftovers into fertilizer.
10. Take a short walk before or after school: Talk about the creatures you notice along the way, the color of sky or whatever else comes to mind.

Every tip may not be easy or practical-but if you start with just one, you're on your way, to a new beginning. Enough with our disposable lives and more for the enduring things that we keep with us for a while-before we recycle and pass it on to someone else!
Just do one thing that makes you feel good-every day!